Errant Impressions

I Resolve to Do More of the Same in 2012

2012-01-18T17:26:00.000-07:00

As 2012 approached, I wondered if I would feel compelled to make New Year's resolutions. I'd done it in the past, and it had been an effective way to review what I'd accomplished as compared to the goals I had set, and what I'd like to do in the coming year. But my new, more laid-back self recoiled at the thought of it. Instead, I wrote a letter to Santa Claus.

In the letter, I asked for a few things--some small, some large, some material things, some experiences--because in the act of asking, I made my desire for them real and the manifestation of them more likely. Sounds a lot like a resolution to me, only without the normal thoughts of, "Will I really do it this time?" or "If I can't make this happen, I'm going to feel bad."

But the more valuable part of writing this letter to Santa was the justification. Rather than putting myself neatly into a naughty or nice column, I recounted to Mr. Claus all of the beautiful changes I had made in my life in the last year, how I had let go of so much that wasn't serving me well, how I had grown spiritually and emotionally, the major lessons I had learned, and how I was just an all-around nicer person.

It was the act of writing what I had done to move forward in 2011 that made me realize how I had set the stage to continue that momentum in 2012. There was no need to make New Year's resolutions. I am already making my dreams come true.

Fathers and Forgiveness

2011-11-27T17:44:00.001-07:00

Recently, I heard Ira Glass, who publishes This American Life on National Public Radio, speak at an auditorium in Fort Collins, Colorado. He talked about why the stories he tells are so compelling and move millions of people. In the Q-and-A portion at the end, a woman suggested a story on estranged parents. She estimated that half of the people in the room were currently or had been estranged from at least one parent and wanted to talk about why that was and how it could be remedied, if at all.

Her take was that she wanted to tell her dad what he had done to hurt her so much. Ira wasn't sure about the story, whether it would have enough of an element of surprise to make the cut. As Lacy spoke about her experience, I started to cry. It touched a soft spot, as I had just reconciled with my dad after nine years of silence.

My dad divorced my mom when I was 30 years old and my sister was 17. His inability to have a relationship with me after that, or so I interpreted his behavior, had huge ramifications on my own marriage and my ideas about men in general. I tried to create a new and different relationship with my dad, but it seemed I couldn't connect no matter what I tried. I gave up. He gave up. We stopped speaking.

My sister, who is one of my best friends, continued to have a relationship with my dad throughout the years, mostly through sheer force of will. Over time, she built a friendship not only with him, but with his second wife and my now four-year-old baby brother. I stayed in the loop that way, but was somehow comfortable with the idea that I would never see my dad again.

As my sister earned her Master's degree in psychology, she started to see things in my dad that neither she nor I had seen before. Good things. Great things, even: open-mindedness, kindness, vulnerability. He went through his own trials, including suffering with polymyalgia and losing his job. I could relate--I had dealt with my own health issues and had lost my job four years earlier. I listened to everything she had to say about him with rapt attention.

Last year, my husband left our 20-year partnership. Through several transformational events, including months of weekly psychotherapy, regular yoga practice, bicycling like mad, and meditation, I was born anew. In the difficult process of extracting my life from my husband's--physically, emotionally, intellectually, financially, and spiritually--I learned a beautiful, quiet kind of acceptance of my life and everything in it. I sold my house, moved to an apartment, and began a new career by enrolling in a non-denominational ministry program.

I went from control freak to live-and-let-live, from CPA and business consultant to energy healer. I started dating and was amazed by the big, big world out there. I even befriended my ex-husband. Life was flexible. Life was good. It was time to talk to my dad again.

One sunny Sunday morning this October, I called and asked if it was OK to go up to my dad's house in the mountains to see him and his family that day. On the drive up, I felt completely centered and at peace. I wasn't tied to any particular outcome and was content knowing that I was taking this step toward reconciliation.

Happily, the reunion was a success. I felt welcomed, loved, and loving. No one had any need to talk about blame or hurt or fault. We were all just so glad to see one another, and there were hugs all around. Champagne toasts, lots of catching up, and dinner followed. I gave my baby brother a goodnight hug. On the way home, I stopped at the top of the pass, in the complete darkness, to wonder at the sheer brilliance of millions of stars. I couldn't have been any happier at that moment.

So I wonder, how did holding on to that hurt and blame for all those years serve my highest and best good? How did my dad's fear of conflict serve him? Does it take tragedy in our own lives to learn compassion for others? Does the forgiveness process have to take years of our lives, or is there a spark that we can somehow use to light the flame in others' hearts that allows them to let go and love those who love them?

On Top of the World

2011-09-12T14:43:00.000-06:00

I summited a fourteener yesterday on the ten-year anniversary of 9/11. Because my hiking mates were ahead of me most of the time, it turned into a beautiful walking meditation. Though it will likely take me days or weeks to integrate everything I learned into my physical and energetic bodies, I can say for certain that the experience changed my life forever.

It felt as if I were in another world, one between the earth and astral planes. I am incredibly privileged to be able, in so many senses of the word, to fully take it all in.

To Have or Not to Have, That Is the Question

2011-08-25T00:09:00.000-06:00

The last couple of months have brought with them so much fun and so many valuable gifts that I think I'll call July and August two of my best friends. While I've been listening to music, admiring beautiful art, and breaking bread with friends, I've also been learning and growing so fast it makes my head spin. One of the interesting teachings I've received is this: to coexist with the duality of being able to have something and not being able to have it brings with it peace and harmony.

Havingness is the ability to receive the full beauty and grace of something--fame, wealth, friendship, love, or anything else. For example, a person might be wealthy in financial terms but constantly feel that she is going to lose it all and one day have to beg for money on the streets. She is not in a place where she can have her wealth. Another person can be relatively poor in financial terms but feel wealthy because all of his basic needs are met and he enjoys what few possessions he does have tremendously (think Gandhi).

Someone who can't take a compliment is a perfect example of a person who is unable to have. Perhaps you can relate? Have you ever denied it when someone told you that she admired your taste in clothes? Have you countered that compliment by immediately complimenting the other person's taste, whether or not you believed what you were saying? To fully have everything good that life brings you seems like it would be easy, but it can be surprisingly difficult. Being able to have can take many karmic lifetimes of practice.

And THEN, once you FINALLY learn to have, you have to learn how not to have. What? This sounds crazy. But if you are equally comfortable not having that thing--fame, money, love--in your life, you make space for it to come into your life in all of its glory. Think about that woman who has oodles of money but spends her whole life thinking about how someday she might not have that money. She hasn't learned to have, and she hasn't learned not to have.

Where are you on your journey?

Happy Solstice! or What a Year Will Bring

2011-06-22T00:01:00.004-06:00

Cut to me staring at my computer screen in utter disbelief, exactly one year ago. It was around midnight on the longest day of the year, and the world as I knew it came to an end. My assumptions about love and trust were called into question. My identity, as it had exactly four years earlier when I lost my job, was blown apart.

Slowly, or some might say quickly, I rebuilt. Boy, was I ready for it, too. It was about time I concentrated on fixing me instead of everyone and everything else. I learned a lot in therapy.

Lesson #1: slow down.

Lesson #2: slow is fast.

Lesson #3: the need to fix others masks the need to look inward.

These lessons were what my friend Emily calls two-by-four moments (you know, because you feel like you got hit in the head with a two-inch-by-four-inch piece of wood, which, if you don't know, is also six feet long--let's just say big). And they just kept coming.

I worked hard. I took a close look at parts of me that I would have preferred to leave in the dark. I learned how to let myself feel and not judge those feelings. I learned how to show loving kindness to myself, because if you don't do it for yourself, it's tough to ask it of those around you. Today, I'm just happy that life can be this good. And simple. I love simple.

A supporting sister and best friend are my rocks, and they call me out on my crap when I'm slipping back into the old ways. New friends that I feel like I've known forever keep popping up. I get a big, dopey grin on my face when I think about my kind, loving, patient, fun, funny boyfriend.

I lost 57 pounds. I wish them well on their journey, because I'm not going to go looking for them. I started cooking again--a piece of the old me that I happily reintegrated. A new career called to me, and I'm doing the difficult but fulfilling training to become the best me I can be in that role.

I have a lot of adventures. A community of folks showed up to teach me how to speak the new language of acceptance and peace. The universe takes care of me. I'm in love with the world.

This is bliss.

Ready for a celebration

Already celebrating with my sister

My boyfriend's dog, Lulu, demonstrating my philosophy of life: it's all good; let's just take 'er easy on the couch

Rites of Passage

2011-06-14T11:58:00.001-06:00

Funerals are beautiful ceremonies that help us remember the simplicity and complexity of a person. We have a chance to formally grieve. We think about how that person's time here made a difference.

This rite of passage makes us reflect on our own lives as well. What good or great things have we accomplished? Whose lives have we affected, and how? If we had it to do over, what would we change? Could we make those changes starting tomorrow? It's a powerful, emotional, and thoughtful process.

Rarely, though, are there celebrations of a person's accomplishments while the person is still around. My family rocks birthdays, and I'm glad for it. But mostly, none of us gets the chance to tell a room full of people how important that boss or friend or parent is to us.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I attended the retirement party of a good friend's husband this past weekend. There was a huge table full of photos, quotes, letters, and memorabilia that described all of the aspects of Michael: athlete, coach, teacher, principal, son, father, husband, friend, brother, uncle, boss, colleague, and more.

It was as if we were reviewing and appreciating his oeuvre at an art show. We drank, we ate, we talked, we laughed. I met people who are important in my friend's life that I would never have met otherwise. It was fun and rewarding.

Then there were the words of appreciation. At the designated time, we all gathered outside to hear what folks had to say about Michael, his work, and his life. Not knowing Michael well, I wasn't sure what to expect. Obviously the guy was well respected, because there were hundreds of people at this shindig.

A picture emerged of a man with high standards, who didn't take himself seriously and could be located by his laugh, who loved kids and the work he did with them, and who was a fantastic leader. Standing in the sun with beer in hand, I couldn't stop smiling. This was the man my friend had loved for decades. I understood him, and her, and their life, so much better. It was amazing.

My favorite toast was given by a woman who was obviously uncomfortable speaking in front of a group, but she ponied up. She said something like, "I knew you at one of the hardest times in your life, and you proved to be a man of courage and ethics. You were worth putting my career on the line for." Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice wavered a bit, but she kept going. "So I'll give you the Scottish toast: Here's to us. Who's like us? Damn few, and they're all dead." Funny, and poignant.

What really got me was the first thing he said, before all the speechifying commenced. "I want to thank Linda. I couldn't have done any of this without her." Then he talked about how his work wouldn't have been possible without the competent, capable people he'd worked with over the years. This was a man I wanted to know. I was honored to have the opportunity to learn about him at this point in his life rather than at his funeral.

Rites of passage--retirements, commitment ceremonies, graduations, and finally, funerals--should always be a time for admiration, appreciation, and publicly acknowledged gratitude. Let's make them all big lovefests. Watch how it changes the energy of the person, everyone he knows, his community, and the world.

I Am a Yogini

2011-04-04T22:35:00.000-06:00

When I started practicing yoga seven months ago, I never dreamed it would be instrumental in my transformation from caterpillar to butterfly. I was simply in search of something--anything--that would help me cope with the changes in my life. The stress had to have an outlet.

A teacher in a recent yoga practice explained that when caterpillars cocoon, they don't just grow wings. Some cells change chemically. Embryonic cells that were present from the egg stage start to divide. The caterpillar reforms into a brand new being.

"Basically, they turn into goo," she said, translating for anyone who might be getting lost in the talk of cellular transformation. "And we do that in yoga practice over time," she explained. I couldn't agree more.

With the guidance of many patient and loving teachers, I have broken down old thoughts about my mental and physical barriers. I've learned how to connect my breath to my movement. I've reached places inside my mind and body I never even knew were there.

The physical benefits are astounding. My muscles are more toned and I am stronger than I have been in my entire life. I am flexible, as evidenced by my ability to twist my body like a pretzel. I can balance my entire body weight on one leg while lifting the other leg straight behind me and my arms straight in front of me.

But even more important than the physical benefits are the emotional and mental benefits. Yoga calms me. It reminds me to look inward. It makes me remember that my thoughts show up physically somewhere in my body, whether that's in a sore neck or an upset stomach.

At the beginning of almost every practice, the teacher reminds me to set an intention for the time I'm about to spend. This habit of setting intentions crosses over into all areas of my life, with the result that I get exactly what I intend most of the time. The teacher instructs the students to breathe in all good things that the universe has waiting for us and to breathe out healing, light, and love for ourselves and the world.

Language I've learned in my journey with yoga:

Hatha: union of the sun and the moon--a joining of mind and body that results in strength and vitality

Om Namah Shivaya: there is no literal translation, but I've interpreted this as, "I honor the divine in myself, in you, and in all beings."

Namaste: a greeting that means, "I acknowledge the divine and innate goodness in you"

Om: a chant that reminds us that everything we do should be for the betterment of the universe

The incorporation of the language of yoga into my everyday world is an outward manifestation of the inner change--the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly. Physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual adjustments are all a part of my journey. It is something akin to the deconstruction and reconstruction the caterpillar undergoes. I see what the teacher was trying to help us acknowledge. I am a yogini.

Photo credit: Ambro at freedigitalphotos.net

Easy Does It: Incremental Change in Nonprofit Organizations

2011-03-05T11:47:00.002-07:00

Over the last 20 years, I've been involved with dozens of nonprofit organizations as an employee, a board member, a volunteer, a services vendor, a contractor, and a consultant. I've worked with the tiniest ones that are run solely by volunteers, like the National Center for Community Collaboration. I've worked with large ones that have thousands of volunteer and paid staff members, such as the University of Denver. As part of my community outreach and marketing efforts, I've conducted informational interviews with more than 75 board members, development directors, executive directors, and operations directors in the Denver area.

My frustration has often been the snail's pace at which things happen in nonprofits, especially as compared to the lightning speed at which small-business owners move. When I see that transformational change is possible, I want to go, go, go make it happen! The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that ensure the nonprofit achieves its mission are all there: money, expertise, passion, and time. It's just that someone, or a few folks, need to sit down and, in one marathon all-nighter, fit those yellow, white, and green bits together to reveal the tranquil landscape pictured on the outside of the puzzle box.

But I've realized that it is almost always only incremental change that's possible in nonprofit organizations. Once-a-month board meetings, executive directors with impossibly complex job descriptions who work for below-market wages, an economy that has squeezed Americans' ability to give, and many other factors conspire to limit the way we can fit the puzzle pieces together.

Instead of funders, staff, volunteers, and the community sitting down at the table together to work on the puzzle together, one person at a time meanders by the puzzle table and tries to make a piece fit here or there. Sometimes, on a coffee break, a couple of folks chat over the puzzle while they sip their steaming beverages and quickly find five pieces that fit together. Once in a while, someone who thinks she knows better will remove a piece that's already been fitted correctly in order to see if there is another piece that works better there.

Eventually, though, we start to see larger and larger pieces of the whole: a lake in the background comes together, a fox materalizes at the lower right-hand corner, a sunny mountainside pops out, just needing a couple of pieces to make it complete. These microcosms of the larger landscape represent corporate sponsorships falling into place, or finally getting that policies and procedures manual completed, or identifying the organization's core competencies.

As the picture becomes clearer, and we see that it is indeed possible to re-create that photo from the front of the puzzle box, we get more and more excited. People stop by the puzzle table more often, and in larger groups, and for longer periods of time. It becomes more and more obvious where the remaining pieces fit. Finally, the puzzle is complete!

We stare in wonder and pride at the hungry folks who have received nutritious meals, the students who graduate from high school, the refugees who now have housing. We remember back to the monstrous pile of 1,500 pieces of cardboard and paper we looked at when we first dumped them out of the box. We feel proud of the contribution each of us made, though it took a long time and we faced many moments of despair along the way. And we think, "Easy does it. Slow and steady. Never give up."

The Power of the Flirt

2011-02-13T23:57:00.001-07:00

I have become a master flirt. The ingredients: being in the moment, being willing to take risks, and laughing along with the universe. When I think "flirt," I think: be interested in other people, make their day, and have fun.

People, I'm here to tell you that it is possible to flirt with anyone, anytime. Prime example: Sunday's trip to Whole Foods. I went to get some delicious bits for a Valentine's Day feast. Consequently, I was in an even happier mood than usual.

While walking through fruits and vegetables, I tried to catch a few people's eye. No go. I hit the seafood department and focused intently on the shrimp, thinking that this shopping trip might turn out to be an unusually non-flirty night at WF. Just out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. I glanced over and saw that the guy at the seafood counter was looking at me. This is "flirt radar." If you want to play, you have to notice people noticing you.

I noticed dark brown eyes, a slim build, and a boy-next-door look, all in a split second. This is another skill of the flirt: taking in a lot of detail in a very short amount of time. He gazed at me and flashed a brilliant smile. Be still my beating heart. I am a sucker for a million-dollar smile. I smiled back and took the positive energy of that interaction with me through my slow wandering up and down the aisles in search of treats. Four guys met my gaze with the "Hey, what's up?" look, sometimes more than once. This is what flirts do: look, look longer, smile.

When I made it to the checkout counter, I could tell the cashier was not in a good place. This is unusual for WF employees. Normally, they let their freak flags fly and are into the groove of the moment. So I took her in: her hair, her makeup, her clothes, her nametag. I asked, "Do you have any special plans for Valentine's Day?"

"No. It's just any other day for me," she said, looking down and away. A heartbeat passed. I looked at her openly, empathetically, expectantly. "But I might take my daughter to the movies," she said. "She loves Justin Bieber movies, and there's a new one out."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" I said, smiling broadly. "That's a great Valentine's Day gift."

"And she loves strawberries," the woman said, "so I'm going to get her some before I go home tonight."

"She'll love it!" I exclaimed. By then, the transaction was done, and I looked at her--again, really looked at her--and said, "You and your daughter will have a great day." She handed me my receipt with a shy look of satisfaction. I noticed that she had tiny red hearts painted on her nails. "Oh, and look at your nails. How cute!"

She laughed a little and said, "You know, I just love to wear red. It's my favorite color. So Valentine's Day lets me do that." She held out her hand for me to examine the intricate pink, red, and white nail work she'd had done. Just another day, huh?

That's the power of the flirt.

Upsy Daisy

2011-02-03T17:19:00.000-07:00

Some people are lucky to ever get a flash of knowing, where they can see how interconnected we all are: us to each other on a face-to-face level, us to each other on a super-conscious level, and us to a higher power. Lately, everything is coalescing for me, and I get the sense of knowing more and more continuously. It happens so much that I vibrate at a higher level. I live in that world of connectedness almost all the time now.

I love it here. It's stunningly beautiful. It's warm and bright and happy. It's better than sitting on a rock in the silent desert in the heat of the day. It's better than hearing the birds fly over your tent early in the morning. It's better than floating in a cool pool on a hot day. It's better than seeing a wild animal in its natural habitat before it sees you.

Why is this world of connectedness better than any of those things? Because I can see and feel and hear them any time I want to. Not just remember them, but actually experience them. If you'd told me that a year ago, I'd have told you that you were coo coo for cocoa puffs. Well, I wouldn't have told you to your face, but I'd have thought it for sure.

And now, well, I'm a believer. The more I open my mind to the world and all of its possibilities, the bigger my heart gets. The more my heart expands, the more my soul grows. They keep chasing each other, laughing and tumbling through fields of daisies, like children who never contemplate day's end, or if they do, it's only to give a moment's thought to how much fun they'll have tomorrow. And if I think regretfully of the past, one of them tells a joke that involves chicken feathers. Or asks me what shape I think souls take. Or sends me to kirtan to chant and bliss out.

So here's that shakes out in a workaday world:

I laugh a lot.
I do more of the more meaningful work.
More than ever before, I see all sides of things.
I attract like-minded people into my life.
I learn things at the speed of light.
I forgive easily.

Here's it shakes out in life:

I breathe. Deeply.
I sing my heart out in the car.
I get high on protein, yoga, and endorphins.
I listen to hip-hop music super loud and turn the bass up to get the full effect.
I really feel for the guy who fell off his bar stool at the local divey bar.
I do cookies in unplowed parking lots.
I flirt and watch what happens.

I'm Just along for the Ride, Friend

2011-01-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

I went on a roller-coaster ride with my 15-year-old mentee, Consuelo, this past summer--the first time in more than twenty years. Consuelo, a veteran rider, summed up the whole experience while waiting in the long, hellishly hot line: "It's like I want to go, but I don't."

"Why do you go, then?" I asked her, thinking we were maybe going to have to wind our way back through hundreds of people to get out of line. "Well, it's really exciting to think about it," she said, "but you have to close your eyes the whole time and then afterwards sometimes you feel like you're going to throw up."

This pretty well encapsulated my thoughts about dating as I wrote my first online profile. I was thrilled and terrified. Putting some version of myself online for hundreds, thousands, or hundreds of thousands of folks to see--it takes a certain amount of moxie. But, never having come up short in that category, I stepped off the wooden platform and into the tiny little cart, strapped myself in, grabbed the lap bar, and held on tight.

In one week, I've corresponded in some way or other with dozens of guys. I've read hundreds of profiles and confirmed what a single gal--who moved from Philly to "Menver"--told me: that a whole lot of guys really like their dogs, their bikes, and their snowboards. Some of these profiles are funny, some are spiritual, but most of them are simple, everyday stuff. These guys are just looking for a connection to another human being.

As a result of this process, I realized two things. First, it's hard to get a feel for someone when they sound like just like everyone else. This is the bad thing about online dating. But it has inspired me to get out my marketing copywriting brain and sell myself while still being myself. It seems to be working fairly well so far: one in-person date and three phone dates with a future date planned. One guy even told me I had a really good publicist.

Second, I don't have to close my eyes and hang on. These are just people, like me. Each one has his own quirks, and yet I find so much in common with almost all of them. As one remarkable gentleman said to me today, "The more we remove those barriers to being one, the more we remember that we were always one." Amen, brother.

I'm going along for the ride. I might hang onto the lap bar once in a while when I go around a wicked curve, but I'm also going to be one of those people who puts her hands in the air and yells with delight all the way down every hill.

Thankful

2010-11-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

The last few months have brought a lot of heartache and pain, and also wonderful gifts, learning, and personal growth. As the season changed to fall, I faced many new firsts in the year of firsts without my partner: my birthday, first rain, first snow, first bitter cold day, and of course, the first Thanksgiving. I wondered how I would feel on the holiday, and of course I welcomed back into my heart three of my friends: sadness, and joy, and gratitude.

If there's anything I've learned in the last five months, it's that nothing is black and white. Nothing happens when and how you think it will, so you might as well just relax, have fun, and go along for the ride. I am grateful for the people who have helped me learn those lessons, even when it hurt.

I am also grateful for:

CorePower Yoga and all of the teachers there, especially Maya, Amy Mc, Linda Lou, and Kate; without knowing it, you helped me get through a crisis and then made me a stronger person

My bike, which has taken me on hundreds of miles of paths this summer and given me an outlet for all of my grief and frustration, and also my joyful energy

My sister Lindsey, who will, when she rides with me, ring her bell in the tunnels and yell "Wheeeeee!" on the way down the hills just for the pure fun of it

Emily, who just gets me and is there for me no matter what; her strength and ability to give are bottomless

Heather, Jennifer, Linda, Pam, Erik, Kate, Dan P, Amy, Dru, Tammy, my mom, and Laurie for everything they did to get me this far along in this process, including laughing, packing, moving, unpacking, eating, hanging up stuff in the new place, listening, and talking

Jean Oliphant of Nostalgic Homes, who happens to be my aunt, for her patience during the sale of my house

My therapist Chris, who holds the mirror up without judgment and expertly guides me along this journey of self-exploration, constant change, and growth

The abundance of healthy food that has kept my body fueled

All of the music that has been my constant companion, from country to hip hop to classical to pop to indie rock; the long tail that makes so much music available to us so instantly has been a boon to me

The gift of meditation that led me to my first sustained meeting with a higher power

The executive director and board and committee members of Smart-Girl, who took up the slack when I couldn't be present

My mentee Consuelo, who is a beautiful spirit with a heart of gold and a smile that blinds me with its brilliance

An old car that's paid off and runs, most of the time, without a hitch

My apartment, which is cozy and inviting and doesn't require maintenance

There is more, but I'm thinking this is pretty darn good list. My friends--sadness, joy, and gratitude--think so, too.

Views of Las Vegas

2010-09-26T12:34:00.000-06:00

My sister Lindsey took me to Las Vegas for my birthday, and we had more fun in four days than most people pack into months of everyday living.

Takeaways from the trip:

-There is nothing like the desolate beauty of the desert. Driving with the top down, far from the city, it's quiet and eerie and lovely. There was a full moon for my birthday that bathed the entire desert in whitewash. Stunning.

-Five-star dining is worth every. single. penny. Watching the Bellagio fountains while sitting right on the lake, having the sommelier pair your wine with your courses, sitting surrounded by fresh flowers and original Picasso paintings, eating food that puts you as close to heaven as you can get on this earth.

-Vegas has the highest concentration of the shortest skirts and the highest heels in the entire U.S.

-Aussie men sure can move (highly recommend the Thunder from Down Under show for you ladies when you visit). Whew. That still makes my heart beat fast.

-Cirque de Soleil shows are worth every. single. penny. We saw "O." I doubt any production can rival it. It was a feast for the eyes and ears.

-A day by the pool in your own personal cabana calms the mind and soothes the soul.

-There is no other city in the world where a gigantic chandelier made of tequila bottles seems totally appropriate, and even pretty.

Quotes I'll always remember from the trip:

"We stop at pancakes house."
"They don't call it sin city for nothin'."
"That's a totally different dude!"
"Acapulco lilies make me sneezy."
"I was marked."
"The club can't even handle me right now."
"It gives me a thrill to come out of a place knowing the Mustang is waiting."

Oh, and though it's not really a quote: the blank stare I got from the young, fit-looking guys who work at the hotel when I asked them where I could go to hike. Suffice it to say that Vegas is not really an outdoorsy, exercise-oriented town.

Thanks for the trip and the beautiful memories, Lindsey. SF.

Divorce FAQs: How to Talk to Your Friends Who Are Going Through a Breakup

2010-08-30T08:28:00.000-06:00

I've had my fair share of loss: my job, my dog, three grandparents, two uncles, my dad in the process of his divorce from my mother, friends who didn't want to be friends anymore, and my money. Of course I've learned wondrous life lessons from all of it and have grown tremendously as a human being. Loss has made me more appreciative of what I do have, including an extensive support system of family and friends, a lovely home, and relative stability in tough economic times.

Divorce is by far the biggest loss of them all. I've lost my constant companion--the person who was my best friend for 20 years--and my money (again). I will lose the home and garden I lovingly created and tended for ten years. The list goes on.

Even in the midst of my pain and grief, though, I can see the beauty in life and my fellow travelers. And it is in this spirit that I offer a few words of loving advice to those who are watching a friend or family member go through a divorce or breakup. These are the divorce FAQs, and I hope they help you support that special person in your life who is suffering.

1. What should I say to someone going through a divorce? I don't know the right words.

For anyone who is suffering with grief and loss, the most appropriate words are some version of, "This must be so hard for you." Other options along the same vein:

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I can't understand what you're going through, but I know you must be hurting."

"I love you so much. I am here for you."

Really, these few little words mean the whole world to your friend. You don't need to say anything other than that.

2. How can I fix it? I feel like I need to offer solutions.

You can't fix it. No one can. If it was fixable, your friend would have fixed it. The person in pain has likely already thought through all of his or her options and must do what seems right in the moment. Support those choices; try your hardest not to question them. Your questions are probably more about you and your curiosity and your need to fix than about helping the person.

Some examples of questions and statements that may cause pain:

"Did you try going to counseling?"

"Did s/he have an affair?"

"You know, you really need to work to understand your part in this."

"You could keep the house/car/kids/furnishings if you would just..."

"Did you do everything you could to save the marriage?"

"I can't believe you can even talk to him/her."

"Why aren't you getting an attorney?"

Remember: even if you've been divorced, you have no idea what it's like to go through this divorce, so your questions and proclamations may sound more like judgments. And do the answers matter anyway? Will they make you love your friend any more or any less?

3. What can I do to make the person feel better? I need to do something.

The best way to help the person is to tell him/her exactly what you can do to help. Offers of any kind of help ("Just tell me what to do.") seem empty, and the person doesn't really know what to do with them. What's more helpful:

"I have a truck, and I'm willing to help you load it up and take things to charity or storage on the weekends."

"I can sit and keep you company for a couple of hours on Monday or Wednesday nights."

"I'd love to walk/ride bikes/go to Zumba class with you. Could we plan to do that every couple of weeks?"

"I'd like to bring you some healthy food you can heat up and eat for a few meals."

In other words, be specific, and be genuine. You may overwhelmed by your friend's grief and unable to offer help. That's OK, too. See FAQ #1.

If you're willing to help, keep offering. It's hard for people in our society to ask for or accept help, and it may take a few times for the person to feel comfortable taking you up on your offer. One-time offers may be forgotten or not taken seriously, so keep it up.

4. Why is s/he still sad? It's been a while since it happened.

"A while" is a relative term when someone is experiencing grief and loss. Grief is a nonlinear process, meaning it does not follow a certain path. Each person grieves in a different way, and for a different amount of time. And even when the person seems to be "over it," s/he may experience a sense of extreme loss months or years later. This may show up as sadness, or anger, or depression.

Your friend may be really happy one day and despondent the next. Be patient. Be kind. Be loving. This is a really hard thing for your friend to go through, and the process doesn't just end one day. Some words to use to help normalize your friend's feelings:

"Sometimes grief can really take you by surprise."

"I'm so sorry that day/season/experience/anniversary was a trigger for your grief. It's totally understandable."

Your friend needs your love and support right after the breakup and for the weeks and months that follow. S/he will be suffering in unpredictable ways for an unpredictable amount of time, so reach out when you can just to ask how things are going. You're busy with your own life, and your friend understands that, but when you check in by emailing, calling, or sending a card, it means more than you'll ever know.

In the Thick of Things

2010-05-13T13:10:00.000-06:00

Seth Godin posted on his blog today about the world of possibilities in relation to a hiker called Wolf who carries 14 pounds of weight on his treks. For you non-hiking, non-camping people out there, 14 pounds is sort of like the four-minute mile: theoretically impossible, but somehow achievable by the elite few.

In the the story Godin referred to, the McDuffy couple was inspired by Wolf. Each time the McDuffy couple returned from their hikes, they gave away more of their stuff, including a boat, pickup, and windsurfer. Ultimately, they stopped paying for insurance on their home and belongings because they knew that they could live, "...in a much smaller house with drastically fewer possessions."

Having just renegotiated my homeowners' insurance and purchased an umbrella policy to further protect all of my things, this story struck a chord with me. Just how much stuff does one person need to survive? How much food, how much furniture, how many cars, how many toys? I probably spend more money on flowers to make my deck pretty each spring than some families spend on food in two months. Then I water those flowers three or four or five times a week, and they die at the end of the season.

In mouse type at the bottom of the article, it says that both of the McDuffys were killed in hit-and-run accidents (two separate accidents two years apart) while riding their bikes. It struck me how unjust that was--they were doing a fantastic job figuring out the whole life thing, and then they were taken from it. But then I realized that they had probably learned all they needed to in this world and were ready to move on to another plane of existence.

My umbrella insurance policy and I are nowhere near that plane, but I am inspired. I am thinking.

Measuring Success of Special Events in Nonprofits

2010-04-27T13:20:00.000-06:00

Today I attended a webinar titled "In Defense of Events: Measuring Success Beyond the Bottom Line," which was sponsored by GiftWorks Fundraising Software. I've taught classes on fundraising and have had a tough time defending special events, so I was looking for a fresh perspective on this method of fundraising and friendraising. Mission accomplished.

Here are just a few ways to measure success beyond the net funds generated by the event as a whole (based on my personal experience, the classes I've taught, and the recent GiftWorks webinar):

Number of paid tickets
Total number of guests
Number of sponsored tables
Number of guests in certain categories, such as sponsors or "young community leaders"
Number of new participants (sponsors and individuals)
Contribution margin per guest (revenue less expenses, then divide that result by number of guests); this is the amount that is tax deductible for the guest, so larger is better
Number of media placements before and after the event
Number of impressions from media placements (circulation numbers of each media source)
Number of ads placed in program, and number of dollars earned from those ads
Number of sponsors, and total sponsor dollars
Number of vendors
Number of contacts added to the database
Percentage of growth in any of the above categories year over year, or a three-year or five-year growth rate
Number of people interested in volunteering added to the database

More lessons learned about special events to follow!

How to Talk to a 14-Year-Old Girl

2010-04-22T22:13:00.000-06:00

I spent last Friday night with my mentee, Consuelo, learning what adolescent girls are facing these days, and how to talk about it. Rosalind Wiseman spoke at Girls, Inc. on the topics of communication, bullying, and why your mom "freaks out." The event was sponsored by Dove, who has a world-wide campaign for real beauty they've been working on for some time. While I expected a lot more interaction and a lot less of the speaker talking, I got some valuable tips. And it opened some doors I didn't know how to open with a 14-year-old girl. So it was time well spent.

Here are some tips for moms and mentors that I found particularly helpful:

-Affirm her feelings.

-Don't ask a million questions.

-Ask if she's venting or wants advice.

-If she's venting, keep your trap shut.

-Don't use her slang. It's not cool.

-Ask her what she means if you don't understand.

-Share your experience without lecturing.

-Just stand there. Really. Pay attention. Listen.

-Let her make "mistakes," meaning she's not going to do it your way.

-Accept silence. People who are comfortable with each other don't need to talk constantly.

-Don't ever make fun of her (not that I would do this, but it's a good reminder).

-Apologize when you screw up. Model that good behavior.

Exercise as Meditation

2010-04-15T10:48:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since I last posted: I've been working quite a bit and spending time on volunteer endeavors. I've also been creating space and new energy for spring, the new year, and the new decade. A piece of creating that energy is getting outside again to work in the garden and walk.

Walking in the neighborhood is convenient and quiet, which I appreciate. But I also walk on trails and in open space parks to change the scenery and listen to new bird song. No matter the location, I notice the little things, like how the bare spring branches look against the blue, blue sky. Or how tiny the purple flowers are on the ground cover that has just greened up. Or how the grumpy old man who walks with his grumpy dog twice a day, every single day seems a little less stooped when the weather turns warmer.

The robin's song is calming, while the grackle's and the red-winged blackbird's calls give me a little jolt of energy. When there is water, I tune in to the sound of it and slow down to admire a particularly fast or slow place in the stream and think about the fish that are (I hope) swimming there. Sunlight-dappled trails, stunning views of the mountains, and watching the growth of the leaves on the trees engender an intensely meditative state even while I am breathing hard and working with my hand weights.

Interestingly, what I do not like about these walks is interacting with other folks on the trail. Colorado walkers and bikers usually say hello as they pass, and I don't want to say hi back. Being an extrovert, this seems like a contradiction in my personality, but it does drive me a little mad. I am "in the zone" when I'm walking, and having to make eye contact with and greet dozens or hundreds of people takes me right out of it. I feel like I'm dating or networking at sonic speed, which is exhausting.

Exercise, for me, is meditation. I've tried to problem solve on these walks alone, and my mind is just blank. I wonder how many other people feel the same way. Perhaps we could all just say no to speed dating on the trail and instead focus on our breathing and just which shade of blue the sky is today. Would that make the time spent outside more satisfying, and more fun?

You Had Me at Hello

2010-03-01T12:36:00.000-07:00

It seems like a lot of people get really grumpy about Valentine's Day, and I'm not sure why. Maybe you think it's only for lovers, and without a lover, there's nothing to celebrate. Maybe you think it's just another Hallmark-manufactured holiday that has no meaning. Or maybe you feel you can't live up to the unexpressed, unknown wishes of your honey-bun. Let me provide a little perspective.

Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday. The way I see it, Valentine's Day is a time to tell all the people you love just how much they mean to you. It's the one day a year when your friends and family won't bat an eye if they get a card or a call just to say, "I love you and I'm really glad you're in my life." I sent more than 60 Valentine cards this year, and I felt scroogish that I hadn't sent more. But almost everyone says that mine was the only Valentine they received. Maybe that made it all the more special, but I'm still surprised by the lack of heart sharing.

Perhaps you can do what I do; to get in the Valentine's mood, I watch my favorite love stories: Chocolat, Don Juan de Marco, Pretty Woman, and Jerry Maguire. This year I added a couple of the old love stories: Love in the Afternoon with Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper and An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.

An Affair to Remember has one of the most beautiful scenes I've ever watched. The two main characters, who were both engaged to other people but had started to fall for each other while on a cruise, visit his grandmother. She lives in an island villa at one of the ports where the ship stops for the day. It is one of the most romantic, lovely couple of hours ever. His love for his grandmother shines through, and there's just a hint of a budding love between the two stars. Here's a great montage of the movie that gives you the flavor of it.

These old love stories are without special effects, noise, and explosions. They are perhaps the most simple, back-to-the-basics stories, with haunting music and almost Spartan sets. But in their simplicity, or maybe because of it, they ring true. They remind me why I love Valentine's Day, and perhaps they will inspire you to share your love, too.

Emotionally Focused Therapy -- Breakthrough!

2010-02-19T12:34:00.000-07:00

My sister, who is working on her master's degree in psychology, told me about a treatment modality called Emotionally Focused Therapy that is becoming more and more accepted as THE way to work with couples in counseling. I'm reading a book about it called Hold Me Tight by Dr. Sue Johnson and have gone through a couple of sessions with a counselor who uses this method. And I have to say it's pretty amazing.

The premise is that like children, adults must also have emotional attachments. The bond between adults is more reciprocal, and when it's between lovers, it's also sexual, but the point is that we're not happy unless we have deep, meaningful, emotional bonds with other adults. Until we address the underlying, most fundamental emotional connection issues, all the active listening and negotiation in the world is not going to make a happy marriage. Ding ding ding ding! Tell her which fabulous prize she's won, Bob!

This theory immediately resonated with me and spoke to everything I felt, though it went against everything I thought. I (like you?) have learned that adults need to be self-sufficient and entirely independent. It's nice if you have close relationships friends and family, but you're a bit odd and perhaps need some therapy if you *rely* on others for emotional support. And if you count on your life partner to be your best friend, lover, cheerleader, teacher, and coach, well, good luck to you. That was all of the programming I was fighting as my emotional side was saying, "Oh, finally! Yes, yes, yes! I do need someone I can count on, and I need to be the person he counts on."

Click. Lots of things just fell into place. Like why I don't really feel safe with friends who aren't there for me when I need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to. Like why I never have conflict with the people who are there for me--those folks are not perfect, but we quickly and successfully resolve any little trifling problems because the relationship is solid. Like why that distant, analytical, judgmental side of me never really fit somehow.

If this resonates with you, I'd encourage you to read the book Hold Me Tight. It's written for the lay person but still talks about the research behind Emotionally Focused Therapy. It guides you through several meaningful dialogues you can use with your partner (this book is geared toward the relationship between lovers, but much of it applies to anyone with whom you'd like to have a deep emotional bond). And it validates the need we have for real and reliable emotional attachment to other human beings.

A Little Trust Goes a Long Way

2010-02-02T21:29:00.000-07:00

I have a fairly long-standing relationship with one of my clients--I'll call her Lauren. Lauren sends quite a bit of work my way, and it's work I enjoy. I have to use many different skills to do this work, including sales, relationship building, writing, editing, critical thinking, problem solving, and organization. So it keeps me on my toes. An added bonus from this relationship is that Lauren makes me laugh. She sends me emails at midnight that have witty little comments thrown in, mostly about people she doesn't like all that much.

She's fairly critical of people, and she has high standards. I understand this because I have high expectations, too--a character trait for which I've been both faulted and lauded. The fact that she continues to send me work is the highest compliment. She trusts me to do right by her.

Even so, it took me by surprise when she asked me to write a letter for her mother. Her mom needs help resolving an issue with "an institution," and Lauren is too tired and busy with work to do it right now. "I'll have her send you some bullet points, and you can write the letter. Is that OK?" Are you kidding? You trust me with your own mother's personal business, and you're sending me more work, and you want to know if it's OK? Um, yeah, I'm humbled and grateful, and you just made my day.

An Eye for an Eye

2010-01-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

Driving through a neighborhood last week with my sister, not too far from my house, she pointed out a bumper sticker that says, "Hatred of homosexuals is a family value." I'd like to make a bumper sticker that says, "Hate is not one of my family values."

Talking with a neighbor a couple of months ago, I learned that some neighbors were very vocal about "those people" (Latinos) moving into a house down the street. "Those people" volunteered to help us move our mountain of mulch just to be nice, by the way.

In a meeting with a few faculty members at DU, one person talked about how she cried her way through her PhD program. It's where she experienced full-fledged "body hatred" by others (the PhD students in the program) for the first time.

I am in support of the first amendment. I acknowledge that everyone is at a different point on a continuum of experience and awareness. I try to meet people where they are, and I expect them to meet me where I am.

But where's the love, for cryin' out loud? Where's the understanding, the patience, and the caring? Where's our humanity? Are we so wrapped up in ourselves and our own problems that we have not an ounce of compassion left over for anyone else? I wonder how to stop the cycle, and two of Gandhi's teachings come to mind:

An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.

We must become the change we want to see in the world.

And to that I say YES!

The Power of Positive Thinking

2010-01-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

A story called "Emotional Training Helps Kids Fight Depression" aired this morning on National Public Radio. The story opens with an adult man talking about how he's lived with negative self-talk his whole life. After years of cognitive behavioral therapy, he finally replaced the self-flagellation with talk of, "I'll be able to do it better next time."

The interviewer moves to a class full of 10-year-old kids, where the teacher is trying to teach them emotional resilience skills so that they don't spend a lifetime telling themselves they're not good enough. Good enough for what? For whom? Why do we kill the joy in children so early? Programs like Smart-Girl try to mitigate the effects of this social training, but how much permanent change can we effect when the problem is so big? Why, as a society, are we stuck in this endless loop of unfulfilled unhappiness?

Sometimes (and I wish there were more of those times), I feel so connected to the universal consciousness that I float free, blissfully unshackled from the tape in my head. In those moments, I see and know and feel everything and am at peace with it all. The moments don't last long, but I know from conversations with others that I'm lucky to have them at all. Oh, to capture the complex path of neural connections that happens in those moments and be able to repeat them, on command. Maybe scientists should focus on THAT task instead of curing all of the diseases we develop because of stress and constant worry.

But I do my part by being involved with Smart-Girl, curtailing my own recording, and demonstrating for my mentee Consuelo that setbacks are temporary and not to be taken personally. We shall overcome.

Tasty Humble Pie

2010-01-07T00:15:00.000-07:00

Many different clients use my writing, editing, and business consulting services. There's one I correspond with solely via email, and she's a "get 'er done" person, just like me. We fire off opinions, questions, answers, and info without regard for niceties or a "How was your weekend?" and everything is just peachy. We get a lot done in a short amount of time, sometimes at midnight.

Another client requires quite a bit of finessing. I spend time choosing words carefully so as not to offend his sensibilities. Another client was a friend and colleague before she was ever a client, and I know that our relationship will survive any storm. It's nice to know that, with her, I can be completely me and never have to worry that I'm being judged harshly.

And there are others--all completely different from one another. The work is different, too, as are the lessons that the work and the clients teach me. I love it all! But there is one client... We don't do a lot of work together, and we haven't known each other all that long. Her belief system, her experiences, and her personality are quite different than mine, yet we are connected at a profoundly deep level. She was the first to call me a "writing coach." Not editor, not ghost writer, not teacher, but writing coach. She likes what I do because I preserve her voice rather than editing it all out to be perfectly correct and precise.

And then, in response to an email I sent with appreciation for the positive words she sends to her followers, she said, "I thank God for you." Now that's something you don't hear every day. I've had people say they pray for me, and believe me, I welcome their prayers. I welcome all positive energy put out into the universal consciousness on my behalf. But to have someone thank God for me? I'm humbled. I'm grateful. I'm in awe of the light and grace that flow from her.

There's a reason I've been in this "transition" period for a while. Oh, I could blame the economy. I could blame the flood of wonderful, qualified applicants I'm in competition with. But really, I think I was meant to learn these lessons. To know that I can connect with such vastly different people on a meaningful level. To know that my work means something in the wide world. To know that I have changed others' lives and they have changed mine. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Please Wish Me a Merry Christmas

2009-12-27T23:04:00.000-07:00

This year I have done more to get in the holiday spirit than in any year before. Rather than stress out and worry about getting exactly the right gifts for the right people, I chose and wrapped presents and put them under the tree weeks before Christmas.

We watched every Christmas movie I could think of, including "Miracle on 34th Street," which I'd never seen before, if you can believe it. I saw "Polar Express," which has the the most realistic depiction of Santa's workshop and elves that anyone could dream up. I saw "Bad Santa," which is a hysterically funny dark comedy with Billy Bob Thornton playing the drunk, debauched mall Santa who has a little theft problem. And of course there's always "Home Alone," which makes me laugh so hard I get a great rush of endorphins.

We saw lights on houses, and Blossoms of Light at the Botanic Gardens. We went to my friend Kate's Christmas concert, which rocked the house (check out the Colorado Chorale's concert schedule here). We went to the tuba Christmas concert downtown. I had a ball!

But a friend of mine who is Jewish posted a message on Huffington Post titled "Please Don't Wish Me a Merry Christmas," and it really got me thinking about why I celebrate the holiday. I'm not a Christian (fully 25% of folks in the U.S. are not, lest you think I'm a freak of sorts). It's a bit disconcerting to think that my motives are purely commercial and gluttonous. Who doesn't like to get gifts and eat good food? But I have to say that all this getting in the holiday spirit made me realize that I believe in Christmas because it makes (some of) us feel goodwill toward each other.

People give lots of money and gift to charity at Christmastime. We get together and laugh and love and give hugs to folks we don't see that often. We bake cookies for the neighbors. We wish strangers happy holidays and mean it. And from a practical standpoint, it gives us some way to deal with long nights and short days, cold weather, and the associated seasonal affective disorder (SAD). So I'll continue to celebrate the holiday every year, though I don't celebrate it for the traditional religious reasons. Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.

Have a Spooky Halloween

2009-10-28T22:01:00.000-06:00

Bwah ha hahahahahahahahaha haaaaaaaaa!

This is my sister's masterpiece from two years ago: fanged cannibal pumpkin stalking next victim

I've been doing the big scary laugh around the house a lot lately because our Halloween decorations inspire me to be eerie. I even intentionally scared Gary when he came around the corner. He didn't think it was all that funny or cool. Aw, come on, where's your sense of humor? Don't you like to be scared once in a while? It shakes you out of your complacency. Bwahaha hahahaha ha ha haaaa!

I like wearing a costume for Halloween because it lets me be something and someone else for a few hours. And I can act the part. I've been a vampire, a Renaissance wench, a fortune-telling gypsy, and death, to name a few. The more elaborate the costume, the more I fill in the details to play the part. I usually have an entire backstory for my character.

Renaissance wench: who's ready for an ale?

An alter ego, perhaps? A break from me? Who cares? Death just wants to have fun!

I'm coming... Is it for you?

Fabulous Fall

2009-10-21T21:24:00.000-06:00

Fall has always been one of my favorite times of the year. My birthday kicks off the fall season, the weather gets cooler, the foliage is beautiful, and the holidays are just around the corner. And who doesn't love to carve a pumpkin?

My 2008 work of art titled "Barfing Pumpkin": I put it up on the front porch on Halloween with a sign that said, "Hey kids! Don't eat too much candy on Halloween or you'll end up like this."

Here are some of this year's textures from my garden. Enjoy!

Living on the Grid

2009-10-17T15:19:00.000-06:00

I always knew that all of my data was being gathered and aggregated and sold to the highest bidder. It's part of the price we pay to live on the grid. Credit card purchases, travel patterns, websites I visit, and yes, even the groceries I buy are now fodder for marketers everywhere. Google presents ads that are based on the content in my Google email. This is capitalism at its very best. If there's a buck to be made, someone will exploit me and my privacy.

So I knew that intellectually, and of course I've been Googling myself every month or so to see what turns up under my name. Usually, it's all stuff I was aware of already, though it is sometimes a bit shocking to see a photo of me at a charity event or read a comment I made on someone else's blog. Big, flashing, orange and yellow neon sign: PUBLIC - PUBLIC - PUBLIC.

Today I was nonplussed to click through the White Pages ad for Erin Landeck. And I'll tell you what I found about someone else on that site, because everyone and her grandmother can find the very same thing: There is another Erin Landeck that lives in Lansdale, Pennsylvania at 18 Windsor Court. Her middle name is Denise. She's 35. She lives with Jackie, Robert, and Lindsey there in her house on the dead-end street with a stream running behind it. Couldn't see her house, though, because Google didn't send 360-degree cameras roving around her neighborhood like they did mine. Oh, and if she gets real sick, there's a hospital just down the street from her. Buried on page 6 of the links to pages that contain Erin Landeck (the first five pages are links to me), I see that she graduated in 1992 from Brandywine High School in Niles, Michigan. She's also lived in Mishawaka, Indiana and Granger, Indiana. Her maiden name is Burgess. If I wanted to pay just 95 cents, I could get a report with her birthdate, phone number, and relatives. For just $14.95, I could also get a report with birth, death, divorce, and property records related to Erin. I can pay someone else to check her criminal record.

And that Erin, I'd have to say, is pretty much living under the radar as much as possible because I can't find anything else about her in the first 10 pages of Erin Landeck links on Google. I, on the other hand, am a different story. You can see the books I've authored and edited, organizations I've given money to, my career history, my business websites, where I'm on the board of directors, where I teach and what I teach, and soooooo much more. But, are you ready for it? Here's the kicker. On the very same site where you can see my age, my husband's name and age, my address, and other cities I've lived in, you can click through to a site called MyLife.com to see my profile (if you register for free). And what do suppose is there, before you even register on the site? My profile photo from my not-public Facebook page. Can you say copyright violation? Yes, I've contacted them. We'll see.

As much as I like all of the really cool free stuff I have access to because someone is making money off of selling my deets (this blog, Google Analytics, Google docs, the Internet in general, directions and maps, the Google search engine), I'm still struggling with the fact that the tradeoff is that nothing is really private. In fact, so many things about me are not private, and they're not things I would have chosen to share with the world. How public does my life have to be if I live on the grid?

Talk to Action: Moving toward a More Inclusive Community

2009-10-05T11:59:00.000-06:00

Please help to spread the word about the 2009 Denver Foundation Inclusiveness Conference. Its focus is building inclusive organizations: “Talk to Action ~ Our Next Steps on the Journey.” Up to 300 participants will participate in this day-long conference that helps attendees move beyond exploration and "talking about inclusiveness" to concrete and effective action steps. This conference will provide opportunities for shared learning for nonprofit board members, executive directors, staff members, volunteers, and community partners committed to guiding their organizations towards becoming more inclusive of people of color.

Inclusiveness in the Classroom

2009-09-21T23:03:00.000-06:00

I joined the Inclusive Excellence Faculty Community at the University of Denver this fall, and we had our first orientation meeting this week. One of the participant's comments keeps coming back to me: "It's not always the responsibility of the underprivileged to point out the mistakes and privilege of the people in power." Some of the black folks and white allies in the group agreed that they do get burned out on it. Then another participant quoted Bishop Desmond Tutu who said something to the effect of, "To be silent in the face of oppressor is to be allied with the oppressor."

Can you tell that these people are some of the best minds in the academic world? And then there's practical, realistic me. When we talked about barriers to creating inclusive excellence in the classroom, I said that it reduces my hourly rate and cuts into billable time. Seriously, I tracked my hours spent on class last quarter, and after accounting for my time and expenses, I grossed (that's before taxes) somewhere around $13.50 an hour. Another adjunct tells me, "You're better off working at Wendy's." Well, not quite, but it is a labor of love, for sure.

What is the driving force that pushed me to become involved in this group, which means more meetings and discussions and emails? One of my core values is continuous improvement, and that's high up on the list of motivating factors in this case. I want to constantly evolve into a higher state of being, and I want to be a better teacher every time I teach. And it's also a forgiving group that will provide some basic peer support, which is pretty much absent for adjunct faculty. I get to talk to people who struggle with the same issues I do, and they'll tell me it's OK when I screw up; it's all a journey.

Forgiveness and support and a push to be a better person. It's like Nirvana for me, actually. So forget my hourly rate. I'll consider it a cheaper solution than therapy.

The Plight of Women Is News... at Last

2009-08-25T15:48:00.000-06:00

I wept when I read the story Saving the World's Women and others published in the special section of The New York Times Magazine this weekend.

I cried not because the stories are so terribly sad, which they are; not because of the heartfelt response by other countries, which is fantastic; and not because it was the first time I had learned about the plight of these women and girls, because it wasn't; but because a major newspaper is finally covering women's issues as a serious problem that we can't just accept as status quo anymore. Because The New York Times is reporting that sexual slavery, rape as a tool of warfare, marrying off 12-year-old girls who are raped and then die in childbirth, honor killings, and genital mutilation are horrifying truths for millions of women around the world, to say nothing of the financial subjugation and lack of education that keep women "in their place."

I wept because I felt the kind of heart-jumping-out-of-my-chest elation that I felt when Barack Obama was elected president: joy, relief, gratitude, and restoration of my faith in humanity. Thank you to all of the journalists and authors who participated and made women's issues news worth reporting.

I promise to do my part by volunteering for organizations that address women's and girls' issues. I pledge to make a difference in one girl's life by sticking by her and showing her that there are options beyond pregnancy and dropping out of school at 15 or 16.

What can you do, what can you pledge, to keep the momentum going?

The Joy of Teaching

2009-08-12T00:36:00.000-06:00

After a whirlwind five-week quarter, I'm reflecting on the joy of teaching once again. I'm coming off of a six-month break, which is nice because teaching kind of consumes your life. The prepping, the organizing, the subbing in new material for old, the research, the grading, the administration: it seems endless (which is funny, because "endless" is exactly how the students describe their plight to me; even the ones who are about to graduate still have this exhausted, haunted look about them). The workload is mighty and the hourly rate low.

But there's something about it... a definite adrenaline rush associated with being on stage. The warm, squishy feeling you get when students say that something you did mattered to them, mattered in a very personal way. There's the interaction with live human beings rather than teleconferences and email, which, for extroverts, is as necessary to life as breathing. You're perceived as an expert in something, and lets' face it, we all like to think we know a little somethin'. There's the paycheck. There's being part of a community.

All good, but still not it. Not compelling enough to keep me coming back for more. Got it. It's the chill. There are these moments sometimes in class when I say something that really means something to me, and I can tell the students understand that this thing, whatever it is, is true and real and raw and may make a difference to them. They get a certain look that says, "I get you. I'm listening. I know you're here to empower me." And a chill runs through me. I actually get goosebumps. And those are hard to come by at work.

So when I am complaining again about having to rewrite my class to fit in some new format mandated from above, I'll think about the chill and know that I'll always come back for more.

The Great Outdoors

2009-07-28T20:57:00.000-06:00

Last attempt at camping: disaster. Tomas sat shivering after having an allergic reaction to these tiny little bugs we'd never seen before. And that was the last straw.

Following the advice of an expert, we drove three hours and took a trail off of a trail off of a trail. The campsites were trashed. Piles of ashes everywhere. Fire pits full of beer cans and plastic water bottles. Toilet paper and plastic silverware strewn about. And these are the sites that supposedly no one wants to camp on because there are no facilities.

Then there was the noise pollution. Group after group of people drove by on their ATVs and dirt bikes. (One set of people even had their full race gear on. That shows you how seriously they take their sport.) Each time, you could hear them coming for at least fifteen minutes, and after they'd passed, a fine mist of dirt would settle over the campsite. Oh, and did I mention the gunshots? Apparently we were near enough to a firing range that we heard series of gunshots repeatedly.

But there were quiet times, too. That's when I remembered why on earth we would drive three hours to be at one with nature. Utter silence, and trees and blue sky as far as the eye could see.

Saddened and disgusted, we packed up and left days early.

Deconstructing the Movie "Up"

2009-07-16T18:38:00.000-06:00

The Pixar movie "Up" was the first kid movie I've seen in the theater in a long, long time. I took Consuelo, my mentee, to see it because it got excellent reviews and it was not about violence. (You try picking an appropriate movie to take a 13-year-old girl to see; it's tough. Holy bursting bombs, Batman.)

On the face of it, it's not your typical superhero movie. An old white guy with a big schnoz and a little round Asian-American kid were the heroes. The evil crazy guy was white. The little girl likes to pretend she's a pilot. The dopey dog is the one who finds the treasure. In the end, the old white guy ends up subbing as the Asian-American kid's dad, so it's obviously pro-nontraditional family.

But this is how privilege works. On the surface, it's fighting a lot of the stereotypes. So hooray for them, right? But then I started thinking about it, and I found a dozen reinforcements of the messages of privilege. Hmm, let's see:

-The bad, evil dog is black. How obvious can you get?
-The black dog gets his comeuppance and is put in his place in the end.
-The little kid is fat and is portrayed as weak because of it.
-The kid doesn't have a mom and a dad, because how could a person of color have a happy family?
-Not being able to have children causes the white couple much sadness, because it's not normal for couples not to have children.
-The little girl who wanted to be a pilot and an adventurer ends up being a housewife.
-Only boys are adventurers.
-The fat kid can't control himself when it comes to eating. (Well, duh, because that's why all fat people are fat, right? They eat too much chocolate.)
-The old guys either get fat and ugly or mean and crazy.
-The bird, who is different from everyone else, is hunted her whole life.
-Marriage is between a man and a woman.
-Heroes are able-bodied and able-minded.

I'm sure there are many more that I didn't catch because I'm too immersed in the social messaging associated with my privilege. But scrutinizing what seems OK at first and realizing that it's maybe not so OK after all helps me to not perpetuate and support the status quo. I do wonder, though, what messages Consuelo took from it. We'll have to discuss.

Out with the Old

2009-07-12T12:30:00.000-06:00

I was doing some research for an article, and I ran across this blog called "stuff white people do" (written by a white guy, by the way). One post was about the casual way American's toss around the word "Nazi," as in "the soup Nazi" from Seinfeld, the "parking Nazis" who give you tickets, etc. Perhaps you have used this word in passing or in conversation. I have. And in so doing, I have cheapened it and made what the Nazis did much less horrible by comparing it to my own inconsequential problems.

How many other words do we use every day that trivialize people's pain and suffering and cover up our own bleak history of privilege? Here are a few I can think of that really have no place in our lexicon:

rape, as in "The banks are raping us with those high interest rates."

butt hurt (I have not used this one--it's new on the scene of twenty-somethings and makes my stomach flip every time I hear it), as in "She was butt hurt because he didn't call her back right away."

slave, as in "That intern will be your slave for the summer" or "I slaved over a hot stove all day."

retarded, as in "Those song lyrics are so retarded."

And don't even get me started on swear words. We live in a Christian-dominated society, yet "Jesus Christ" has become an accepted curse, even when used by Christians. Being a non-Christian, I started thinking about how my use of these words would be offensive to some of my more faithful friends and have begun retraining my brain.

Does your language reflect your respect for other people, their beliefs, and their lifestyles? Mine doesn't always, but I'm thinking about it, and trying hard to match my mouth to my mind.

Back in the Saddle Again

2009-06-15T10:39:00.000-06:00

Just before I started driving at 16, a car hit me while I was riding my bike. It wasn't a bad accident, but I couldn't get back on again. Every time I thought about riding, it made me feel kind of sick. It was OK for other people to do it, but not me, no sir, nohow.

As the years wore on, the sick feeling never went away when I thought about riding a bike. Walking became my preferred means of outdoor exercise. "You see more than when you're riding a bike anyway," I'd think, feeling smug as the cyclists whizzed by. I'd point out a particular flower to Gary or Lindsey and stop to smell it. We'd walk down to the pond to see if the turtle was sunning himself on the log. I'd watch how the seasons change the gardens along the many paths I walk: the incremental changes you'd never see if you fly by on a bike.

Then a couple of months ago, my sister bought a bike. My mom and stepdad started riding again, too. We were all talking about it one day, and a switch clicked in my brain. I wanted to ride. I test drove my sister's bike in my Crocs and jammies in the back yard. I knew I wouldn't crash, and I didn't. I knew I could balance, and I did. I knew I could stop, and I did.

I rode for five miles on the Ralston Creek and Clear Creek trails yesterday. As I peddled harder, I felt the thrill of speed. Oh, I'd forgotten how fun this was. Birds and trees and ponds flashed by in seconds. I almost felt guilty, and I stopped a couple of times to look at this waterfall or that bird. But mostly I just took it all in. The smell of the water and the green spaces, the cotton flying up my nose, the bugs bouncing off me, the joy of moving along under my own power.

Perhaps it's a metaphor for the rest of my life, this taking charge of my fear and changing an old belief in the blink of an eye. What would happen if we pushed through that old programming every single day? What would my life look like? What would yours?

The Pretty Privilege

2009-06-04T14:37:00.000-06:00

I attended the Pedagogy of Privilege conference at DU this week. After a day of self-evaluation, reflection, identifying the roots and triggers of my prejudices, and talking to others about how I fight oppression and whether it's enough, I was utterly exhausted. Another attendee said to me as we walked from one building to another, "I feel this so much at the core of my being. I feel everything so powerfully. Now I want to go home and put on my sweats and read a trashy novel." I knew exactly what she meant.

I purposely started the day with something that I thought would be a bit lighter, a workshop on "the pretty privilege." Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I think that any privilege is laughable or unimportant, but you know me when I have to get up early: I just couldn't face workshops about pornography or race hatred first thing in the morning. I need copious amounts of coffee before I can deal with the heavy-duty stuff.

The pretty privilege is this: in Western culture, we value women who are young, thin, and have symmetrical features. And there are lots of other characteristics that make one young, thin, symmetrical person prettier than another: blue or green eyes, long hair, blond hair, white skin, large breasts, tall (but not too tall), full lips, beautiful clothes, straight white teeth, and no wrinkles. But a preference or bias does not a privilege make. There has to be power, too.

So is pretty a privilege? One could argue that there are plenty of women who don't fit the profile who have power and money. One could argue that pretty is fleeting, because once you age or gain weight, you're not considered pretty anymore. But do the ones defined as pretty have more power than those who aren't? Do the good-looking ones enjoy privileges others don't? Oh, you betcha.

Research quoted in the workshop stated that people who were shown sets of faces assigned these characteristics to the prettier ones: happier, smarter, more balanced, and more successful, among others. Research shows that teachers give prettier girls better grades regardless of performance and regardless of the gender of the teacher. And there are plenty more examples where those came from.

The pretty girls who were studied had scathing and hateful comments about women who were older, overweight, or not dressed right. They called the women "whiners, socially inept, and lazy." "If they just tried harder and were less focused on immediate gratification [referring to fat girls], they could look better." Better, but not pretty. In fact, the researcher argued with them for hours about the fact that overweight women can and do see themselves as pretty. It was beyond the pretty girls' comprehension. "How could they possibly feel good about themselves?" they queried. Sigh. When asked how the pretty girls are stereotyped by those not part of the group, workshop attendees threw out terms like stupid, vain, shallow, self-involved, slutty, thoughtless, and rude.

So how can we fight pretty privilege? I make sure to show my self-confidence and my happy, outgoing personality around them (thus fighting the perception that I am lazy and socially awkward) and befriending them when possible. There is truth in the idea that once you know "one of them," you are less likely to stereotype the entire group. That works both ways.

Slice of Life

2009-05-21T11:51:00.001-06:00

All kinds of people come into my mom's shop, On-The-Block Auction, where I work on Wednesdays. They want to know if my mom can sell their stuff on eBay and get them some cash: young people, old people, having-a-midlife-crisis people. Poor people scraping together a few bucks to pay bills or buy food, lots of people who have lost their jobs and are selling their treasures, and uber wealthy people who have closets or houses full of thousand-dollar luggage and handbags they've used three times. People of all colors and ethnicities, and people from other countries who have made their homes here. Hustlers and honest folk, and you never can tell who's who at first glance.

The cameo appearances these people make in my life can be enervating, amusing, invigorating, or haunting. I learn so much about them in the few minutes that our lives intersect. Sometimes they pour their hearts out as soon as they walk in; sometimes all it takes is a genuine, "How ya doin'?" and the words just come tumbling out. My mom often cries. She's got a big heart. "They all get to me," she says in response to my comment about her feeling sorry for someone in particular.

Yesterday a beautiful, tall man about my age walks in with two boxes of comic books that he and his dad collected over many years. He's selling everything that doesn't fit in a suitcase and moving to New York to start a new life. "What's in New York?" I ask, making conversation while I look up his comics, trying to get him to flash his lovely smile. "I'm going to do music there." "Cool," I say, "I bet that's freeing." "I feel free," he says. But he doesn't smile. He's still getting used to it, the free feeling. I'm a little jealous, but mostly just happy for him.

An older, short, stout lady comes in and asks about her collection of ugly porcelain birds that her son's wife's parents gave her. She hates them and is ready to sell them for some cash because she just lost her job as a hiring assistant at Macy's. "I'm 72. Who's going to hire me to do anything?" We commiserate about lost jobs and discrimination in hiring. I tell her to look into working for nonprofits and give her a lead on a job board. I'm sad for her, but I don't think about it for very long. My empathy for those who have lost their jobs is great, but I have to put a stopper on the sadness, or it would be endless.

While I'm helping someone else, a very petite young man comes in to pick up his check. He's been in before. I smile at him and greet him, and he gives me a big happy look. He always seems to be in a fabulous mood when he comes in, all chatty and smiles. But he's got a little problem. He calls the shop too much, sometimes five times in five minutes. That's when I shut the ringers off. OCD, I think. "Is he worth it?" I ask my mom. He brings in piles of new designer clothes that he's never worn, so yes. "You've got to find out what he does for a living," I say, being nosy. She gets the story: laid off from his job as an accountant at Denver Public Schools. How did he afford $1,000 jackets? "Family money," we agree.

Eddie the hustler comes in to pick up his check, and he talks to mom for quite a while about a pair of Leica binoculars he's brought in that could sell for $500. His little brother is tagging along, learning the business. "What other options do we give those kids?" mom asks after they leave. "Hustling is much better than dealing drugs," I say. She nods her head in agreement, and we let the moment pass.

I finish the photographs of 17 more batches of vintage paper dolls that a guy brought in a few weeks ago. His mom died, and he brought in her lifetime collection of stuff to sell. It holds absolutely no sentimental value for him and wants it o-u-t of the house.

A day at the shop. We are sad and happy, open and guarded, forgiving and judgmental. We must be careful with our hearts and theirs.

Trying to Be Zen

2009-05-16T15:17:00.000-06:00

My friend Emily suggested that I don't have to be thoughtful and profound every time I write in my blog, that it's really more about letting people see a little slice of your life. So I thought I'd write about a typical day, because this is like no other time in my life. I have no office to go to, so I've made myself as much of a routine as possible:

Get up. Brush my teeth. Put on my most comfortable but still acceptable for being seen outside clothes (hmmm... are jammie pants OK?). Feed the dog. Make coffee. Take the dog out. I'm not really thinking about a whole lot at this point, as you know if you've ever seen me before 9:00 in the morning. I was up until 1:00 AM last night catching up on emails and doing some work. I am not a morning person. I have tried. It doesn't work. I am flying high long after most of you go to bed, so try not to judge.

Power up the computer, which I have now set up to automatically start Firefox and Pandora. Only the music I like starts playing: jazz (real jazz, not the smooth, Kenny G kind), classical, blues, a little Jimi Hendrix. Nice. Now, pick a beautiful mug. Pour coffee. Sip coffee. Aaaaaaaaahhhh. Starting to feel awake. Tomas settles into his place with me on my office chair. He has no shame.

Check emails to see if anything urgent needs to be attended to. Good, no craziness this morning. Take my time slogging through morning emails. You know, the ones everyone sent two hours ago. I hope they weren't expecting a response before now. Take the dog out.

If it's Wednesday, I start thinking about packing my lunch and the dog's accoutrement to take to work at my mom's shop. On other days, I might have a morning appointment or teleconference to prepare for, but generally not before 10:00. Learned that lesson the hard way.

Make calls or send emails to stay in touch with my network or generate leads for new business. Write correspondence. Do research for interviews or networking meetings. I'm in the groove now, and I'm thinking about how much work I can get done today and what my priorities are.

Lindsey might come over so we can walk together. Throw the dog's Dino Cuz ball a few hundred times to try and keep his mind occupied (aforementioned walk most definitely does NOT wear him out, no matter how far we go). Take him out. Shower. Spend the afternoon doing project work for clients. Make notes about the follow-up I need to do from phone calls or meetings from yesterday or this morning.

Take time out to deal with emails, teleconferences, and phone calls for Smart-Girl, my volunteer gig. Plan my next outing with Consuelo, my mentee--my other volunteer gig.

Take the dog out. Fix dinner, usually something simple and healthy involving meat and a green vegetable. Look forward to spending a little decompression time with my sweetie. In the evening, run errands, or once in a while watch a movie (no TV for over a year now). Gary takes over the dog duties for the evening. Settle in for another few hours of work. Tomas gets comfortable on Gary's chair. Did I mention that he has no shame?

Think about who I can call for a favor so that I've got an edge against the other hundred qualified candidates who applied for that job. Figure out how I can generate new business. Apply for jobs. Process evening emails. Plan ways to improve the class I teach at DU. Bid G goodnight when he goes to bed at about 11:00. At 12:30 or 1:00, take take the dog out, read for a half hour, and hit the hay.

On the weekends, throw in a few hours of working in the garden, listing jewelry on Etsy, making jewelry if I can squeeze it in, chores, once in a while dinner with friends, and errands.

Minimize the negative thoughts, worry, and fear. Meditate on how much I love my friends and family, and how beautiful the world is. Listen to the birds. Watch my garden grow. Admire how the light changes as the day wears on.

This is my life. It's both more simple and more chaotic than ever before. I choose to be happy.

Ode to Lindsey

2009-04-28T21:15:00.000-06:00

Your infectious, funny chortle
As a baby in the back seat
Was one of the many joys
You gifted to me as a tiny treat.

As you grew older and wiser,
And your little hand grew bigger in mine,
I sometimes had quick twinges—
The baby that you were was gone in no time.

But now that you’re a big frog
All sassy and grown,
It’s a joy to watch you learn
As you make your life your own.

Should you feel lost,
All you need to know
Is that you’re surrounded by love
And you’re perfect, smart, and beautiful, so go!

More People You Meet in Your Neighborhood

2009-04-12T23:45:00.000-06:00

I walk my little dog quite a bit because he's still a puppy and still being housetrained. We see quite a bit on our walks, Tomas and I, and the weekends are especially busy in my neighborhood. This weekend we ran across a couple of children I haven't seen before: a little boy of about five riding a Big Wheel (if they still make those) and a girl of about seven riding a scooter, the kind you have to push with your own oomph.

I walk by the little girl, who is riding her scooter back up a long stretch of a dead-end street where there is hardly traffic. She's within about half a block of home. I call "Hi!" cheerily as she approaches me. No response. She rolls past me, not making eye contact, moving toward her little brother, who is watching and waiting for her. I frown and roll my eyes behind my sunglasses. When I was a child, it was considered unutterably rude not to respond to and interact with people who addressed you in public.

Has human nature or parenting changed so much in thirty short years that children must be taught to be mortally afraid of strangers? To ignore them and even stick out their tongues as they cling to a parent's legs? I wonder how this training will affect the children's emotional intelligence, which is supposedly THE most important quality for success. I wonder how these kids will change the fabric of our society.

On the way back to the house, a gentleman in his 70s rolls his car up to the curb to chat me up about how he and his wife have a little girl Chihuahua that walks them, instead of the other way around. I laugh, and we talk about how funny it is that little dogs have so much personality. I am grateful for the human interaction. "You have a wonderful day!" he says as he pulls away. "You too!" I shout after him, smiling, feeling good and right about the world once again.

Conspicuous Consumption

2009-03-22T11:12:00.000-06:00

Along with the rest of the world, I've been rethinking how I spend money. At first it rankled, having to cut back and cut down. But in combination with the lessons I've learned (and continue to learn) about privilege, the "reducing, reusing, and recycling" is now something I'm proud of.

I'm refinancing the house and shopping insurance coverage. Gary does the grocery shopping more often because when he goes, nothing comes home that isn't on the list (this is an excellent use of his single-minded focus). Rather than making me feel put out, I now like leftovers because I used all the vegetables before they went bad AND I don't have to cook again. Rather than spending $50 on new plastic organizers, I found a perfectly serviceable wood alternative at the thrift store for $3. I think long and hard about buying anything if it's something I like to make myself and can do in a reasonable amount of time.

This is a sea change for Gary and me. We were conspicuous consumers (and still are relative to most of the world's population). I hope these lessons stick when things look up financially. But I feel it in my heart as well as think it, so I'm pretty sure they will.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

2009-03-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

As my partner and I plot how to earn enough income to stay afloat, we've learned to tap into our network in new ways. I asked my cousin, who's a pretty big wig at a university here in town, to give me some advice about getting new teaching gigs. I'm awfully excited about the nonprofit financial management and intro to fundraising class I teach at DU, and I wanted to figure out how to approach others in the college and university system in a way that would at least get me in the door.

In the nicest way, he said that it was pretty much a fool's errand to go chasing after new teaching gigs. The curriculum is already jampacked, my class would have to be an elective and they wouldn't be likely to add it, etc. Being the pragmatist that I am, I moved on to other things--no sense in wasting energy where the payoff will be small or nonexistent.

At a Women'sVision Foundation event last week, I ran into someone who is working on her Master's thesis at the Women's College at DU. We chatted for a few minutes, I asked a couple of pointed questions, and she recommended that I contact the Women's College to see if they might be interested in my topic areas. The next day, I figured what the heck, what would it would cost me other than a few minutes of time? I emailed the dean, and within an hour I had a response from one of their reps, who scheduled a meeting to talk with me.

The moral of this story? I need to follow my own advice--the advice I give other women: If you don't ask, you don't get.

I Left My Heart in Aurora

2009-02-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

I got "the call" about the perfect job on Friday. I can almost recite it by heart. The words vary little; the tone varies not at all. There's some small talk, during which time my heart is sinking because I know the drill, then it goes something like this: "We were so impressed by your qualifications, and you were a close second, but we chose someone who was a closer match."

Though I am a bit hardened to the whole process, I have to admit that I cried about this one. It was the right environment, a match for core values, and in perfect alignment with my skill set. I sent three excellent letters of reference, unsolicited, that said I'd be great in the job. I explained how I would fit in and do excellent work. I showed my genuine enthusiasm for the job, the boss, and the company over and over. And still it wasn't enough.

There are hundreds of applicants for most jobs, and dozens of them are a really good fit--this I know from talking to colleagues who consult in the hiring process and from the many times I've been told same by the hiring manager/committee. But I think what was so disillusioning about this particular "no" was that the person who did the hiring explained that the process took so long because they got so many good candidates due to unemployment being so high and the economy being so bad.

Whoa, whoa, whoa--wait a minute! What about the people who genuinely WANT to work there? Who think they'd make an amazing difference? Who would be thrilled to come to work every day because it's such a great fit for skills and values? Who would spend the commute time to Aurora plotting ways to make the organization even more fantastic? Surely I wasn't the only one. I hope the one who got the job is in the latter camp.

In Honor of Valentine's Day

2009-02-10T23:45:00.000-07:00

"By day the blue will pale down into white where it touches the white of the land, after sunset it has a new circumference--orange, melting upwards into tenderest purple."
-E.M. Forster, A Passage to India

My heart beats faster when I read that sentence. But it wasn't always so. My personality style is ESTJ, which means my natural tendency is to think first and feel later, and to think about facts first and people second. But the stars aligned a few years ago and brought two women into my life who changed me forever: Elizabeth, who shared her art and her big heart with me, and Linda, who was forever asking me crazy-making questions like, "Do you think that will get you what you want?"

I dedicate this quote to you, because I don't know if I could have recognized the beauty in it without you. Though we don't work together anymore and see each other not nearly as often as I would like, you are in my thoughts and in my heart. Love to you and every one of my dear valentines...

Vibrant Voluntarism

2009-01-13T17:51:00.000-07:00

I try to become more conscious of my life every day. For example, normally I just consume books and movies, but now I've been asking myself what lessons I learned from the movie or why I liked or disliked the book. As I told my friend Amy today, it's sort of like having a book club in your head.

I've been applying those same ideas to other areas of my life as well. I'm trying to figure out and articulate why I love Smart-Girl so much, because it's been such a great experience and I'd like to apply the same principles to other nonprofits.

First, I believe in the mission. We educate pre-adolescent girls in a fun and nonthreatening way and give them the life skills they'll need to become confident, capable, and self-reliant women. It just doesn't get closer to my heart than that.

Second, the members of the board of directors are smart, fun, and dedicated. At the board meeting last night, we were talking about how we could get through our meetings more quickly if we had a different kind of meeting, where we didn't laugh, followed Robert's Rules of Order, and were cut and dried. And someone says, "Ooooooh, let's not do THAT," and that was the end of the discussion. We like a little bit of bonding and fooling-around time, just like we provide for the girls in the program. Fun is one my core values, as anyone who knows me well will tell you. I like to laugh.

Third, my skill set and I are valued, and I know it because I'm thanked routinely in a meaningful way. Also, I like the work I do for the organization because it's a fit for me. I was elected as the treasurer starting January 1. Woohoo!

Last, I love this gig because we are not perfect and we know it. We do great things for the girls, and we're improving all the time. This aspect of the organization appeals to my core value of continuous improvement in a big way.

OK, so I like the work, I feel valued, I have fun, and I believe I make a difference to the organization and the girls we serve. What are the lessons I can apply to other organizations?

1) Make sure the volunteers are closely allied with the mission. I teach this in my class, and everyone involved with volunteer management will tell you it's essential.

2) Carefully match the work volunteers do with their skills and areas of interest. Envelope stuffing is really only appropriate for a few volunteers. Don't we all look for meaning in our work?

3) If you look for volunteers with the same core values as the organization, they'll stay longer and be more productive during their service.

Doggie Lovin'

2009-01-05T13:35:00.000-07:00

Two years after my Rachel died, another furry friend found us and became part of our family. As I write this, the little brown Chihuahua we named Tomas (pronounced toh-MAHS) sleeps at my feet curled up in a ball.

We grieved terribly when we lost Rachel, and we still feel her presence in so many ways. I could never bring myself to take her photo off of my desk. Just a few days ago, I found some of her fur stuck on the underside of a chair in the basement. We hear her voice when the wind blows through the chimes in the garden, one of her favorite places to be. It was only in the last few months that I could talk about her without crying and feeling the lump in my throat (though I feel it now).

The people who understood my grief best just let me co-exist with it and never pushed me for an answer about when I was going to get another dog. Each one is simply irreplaceable, so it's kind of like asking when you're going to get another husband or parent. As if getting a new one would erase the pain and sadness anyway. The most comforting message of all, the one that stuck with me and gave me hope was this: "Another dog will find you when it's time."

And there he is--Tomas, the little Chihuahua. I'd forgotten what joy a dog brings to your life: gazing into your eyes, the excited wagging of the tail when you come into the room, snoring when sleeping peacefully, playing fetch and learning all the tricks you can teach him, snuggling with you on the couch. I'm happy to wake up to him in the morning and happy to come home to him when I've been away. He's a loving friend and constant companion. He is a joy to me.

Lessons in Collectivism

2008-12-18T17:50:00.000-07:00

Mentoring someone from a different culture has been quite a lesson in humility. I thought I understood privilege, but I still get taken off guard when my assumptions come back to kick me in the teeth. I've noticed it the most with my ideas around giving and possessions. When I give someone a gift, I expect that it will remain the property of the person I gave it to and that the person will treasure it as a token of my esteem and affection. Not necessarily so.

Look, I understand regifting and giving stuff to the thrift store if you hate it, if you really hate it, or it doesn't fit or something. For years, my grandma gave me frou-frou sweaters that were two sizes too small for me. Wishful thinking on her part--that I liked teddy bears and sequins on my clothes and that I would somehow magically be thin. So those went to Goodwill. But having your sister or your mom or your grandma just take the gift that was given to you and do with it what she pleases is absolutely foreign to me.

And I guess that's the essence of cultural misunderstanding and privilege, isn't it? I judge that behavior, and I want to intervene. My big-sister protective gene kicks in. Who takes a little kid's stuff anyway?

My sister Lindsey, wise person and counselor-in-training that she is, says, "They're collectivists." Of COURSE! How did I miss this? Me, who believes that socialist medicine can peacefully co-exist with capitalism. But my training is so strong, and my individualism so carefully maintained, that I needed someone with a different perspective to point out the flaw in my thinking. My mentee's mom had hinted that I was spoiling her daughter--apparently taking her to free craft classes, giving her a pumpkin at Halloween, and going out for chicken at Boston Market is a big deal. And giving her things? I think somehow that doesn't fit with their idea of what a mentor should be and do.

So I'm adjusting my thinking. Gifts should be for the whole family. Everything is considered community property. The pumpkin was turned into food rather than the jack-o-lantern I expected. A necklace that little one made with my expensive vintage beads was broken on the first day, and the beads were lost. A birthday gift card was appropriated. And this family gave up a whole room for a relative and his kids to live in for several months until he can move back to his country of origin. They took in a third dog and fostered him until they could find him a home. They eat dinner together around a big table in the kitchen.

I have much to learn.

The Little Things

2008-12-14T12:56:00.000-07:00

My friend Emily and I hold each other accountable for our "daily joys," the little things that we give ourselves to feel happy, alive, and grateful. She loves her morning coffee, good-smelling candles, and organizing her house. The gifts I give myself are eating lunch on the deck, walking in the sunlight, strolling through my garden, and taking the time to cook good food.

Our lives are comprised of millions of moments, each with the potential for joy. What do you give yourself?

At the End of the Day

2008-12-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

Projects have been evaluated, grades have been submitted, and another quarter is done. And upon reflection, teaching in the Graduate School of Social Work at DU is one of the best things that's ever happened to me. DU is simply a fab place to work. Even adjunct faculty (that's me) are treated with respect and given plenty of resources to do the job right. The environment is inclusive, and the students are thoughtful and intelligent. Watching social workers prepare to do good in the world makes me joyful.

All of that is good and right, but really, why do I teach? It's not the money; once you figure the time invested, the hourly rate is relatively low. It's not the prestige; as an adjunct faculty, there is none. It's not that I need to be an expert; I've been a big fish in a little pond plenty of times, and it's lost its luster.

So what it boils down to is connection--one human being relating to another. I lead, I facilitate, I guide, I show. I ask them to step outside their comfort zones. They help me stretch my boundaries and take down my walls. I respect them, and they respect me. We get to know each other: likes, dislikes, attitudes, personalities, quirks. We have lengthy, meaningful conversations. We give each other feedback. I watch them go from being fearful about money to feeling in control and excited about their future leadership in nonprofit organizations. I'm proud of them. We are connected.

I am an educator.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

As I think about what I'm grateful for, I'm surprised by how different my life is this year than last. So much has changed, and I've brought about all of that change because I've had the space to find my values and power again. And I am oh-so-grateful for that space. Here's what else makes my heart light:

The robins having a little party in my garden today

Being part of the DU community

My students and the lessons they teach me

Milo the nephew dog

My sister Lindsey

My partner Gary

My mom

The clients who make me laugh

The lovely house I live in and the garden that surrounds me

Beads and making pretty baubles

Emily, Shannon, Heather, Amy, and Merry, who have been friends through good times and bad

Having my mentee, Consuelo, in my life

The staff and fellow board members at Smart-Girl

Barack Obama

Music! There was a great series of essays about music on This American Life (a show aired on NPR) last weekend, and one of the people on the show said this: "A chord here... A chord there... And your heart splits open." Yeah.

Blessings upon you.

Keep Your Chin Up

2008-11-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

People marvel at my ability to stay positive in the face of the continued rejection that is a normal part of the job search. "What are my options?" I always ask. To wallow in self-pity? To despair? To externalize it and blame it on others? None of those sound very appealing to me. And those qualities certainly aren't very appealing to potential employers.

The last set of interviews was so strange that I had to keep telling myself to keep my chin up, though. First, I wrote the engaging cover letter and convincing resume that showed how my skills matched their needs. Passed that hurdle. They checked my references before even offering an interview. Passed that hurdle. Got an interview.

The first interview was with nine people and was a "you have twenty minutes to answer these questions" scenario. They didn't interact. They took detailed notes the entire time. I, on the other hand, was on it. I was charming. I was smart. I was well spoken.

This was immediately followed by a twenty-minute timed written test. I proved my ability to think on my feet; use technology; assess the need for, develop, and implement an educational program; and write persuasive marketing collateral. I was on it. I knew the material. Writing is one of my many well-honed skills. I work well under pressure. Passed those hurdles. Got the second interview.

OK, I thought, now they'll loosen up and have an actual conversation. Nope. No mention of the previous interview or anything that came before. The second interview was a "you have thirty minutes to answer these questions" scenario. No opportunity for me to ask questions or have a dialogue. At all. Their noses were buried in their papers the entire time. They barely nodded their heads to acknowledge I had spoken before moving on to the next question. I was not as smart or charming or well spoken as before.

Today I got the "no thanks" notice. I was disappointed. And I was relieved. An organization that has no room for conversation or interaction when deciding on the future leader of their organization doesn't have room for me.

Happy Surprises

2008-11-10T14:37:00.000-07:00

I'm looking forward to Christmas lights. And snow. Every time fall rolls around, I can't help but think, "Christmas is coming, and spring's just around the corner!" My bulbs will poke their snouts up through the cold, cold ground because they can't wait any longer. That smell in the air of green things under the mulch... I digress.

Fall used to make me melancholy, but now my garden makes me appreciate every season. Its beauty is never ending. I enjoy caring for it: I clean it, I give it sustenance, and I invest time and energy and money in it. I watch it grow and change and feel a great sense of pride in how I've contributed to its loveliness. It delights and surprises me at every turn. The garden is like my child in many ways. And as if it were my child, I photograph it incessantly.

Here are some of the latest pictures of my darling one. The one with the little purple flowers is rosemary in bloom!

Change Has Come to America

2008-11-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

As I write this, I am listening again to Barack Obama's presidential acceptance speech. And I am crying, again. This man moves me. He moved America. He represents hope--for Americans, but also for the rest of the world, which has been watching this race so closely and with bated breath.

But it's not just his philosophy of inclusion or his motivational way of speaking or his politics that move me to tears. I simply didn't think that America had grown up enough to see past skin color or gender, nor did I believe it would happen in my lifetime. But clearly this baby is moving out of the "terrible twos" and learning to say more than "No!"

I have never in my life been as happy to say that I was wrong. I am so proud of us I feel like my heart will burst.

That's Ms. CPA to You

2008-11-02T23:27:00.000-07:00

A colleague I worked with always made me laugh by calling me Ms. CPA, which was a play on my credentials: MS, CPA. Recently a consultant I hired to give me advice about my job search suggested that perhaps my identification with my credentials is getting in my way. Why? Because it calls to mind the image of... I'll let you fill in the blank. What do you think of when you think "Certified Public Accountant"? Exactly. And that isn't me.

I didn't go down the path of the CPA who pays her dues at the public accounting firm, which is what you're supposed to do. (This was an early clue that I was not destined to fit in anyone's mold.) It just seemed, well, mundane and boring. Plus I knew exactly one woman who had made it big in public accounting, and she paid for it with a divorce and missing her kids' childhood. Now there's a ringing endorsement.

I'm nontraditional and anti-establishment in many ways. I was never a "public accountant." So why do I keep my license up to date? Why do I readily tell new networking contacts that I'm a CPA and forget to mention other important facets of my professional life (e.g., I'm an adjunct faculty member at DU, I volunteer at three different organizations, I own three businesses)?

Because I'm an ESTJ. Because I can process data and its relationship to the big picture faster than most people. Because I love numbers and the story they tell. Because I enjoy telling that story to other people. Because CPAs follow a code of ethics I believe in.

It's hard for people to reconcile my outgoing and friendly nature with the fact that I'm a CPA, and that's why my consultant recommended that I de-emphasize my financial background during the job search. She said that people want a CEO who is, above all, charming, and I throw them off with the financial credentials. I've followed her advice, and we'll see how it pans out.

But in the end, I'll always be Ms. CPA to you.

From Career Ladder to Career Lattice

2008-10-20T11:06:00.000-06:00

Last week I attended a women's leadership luncheon sponsored by Deloitte LLP at the invitation of the Women's Foundation of Colorado. Sharon Allen was the keynote speaker--she's the Chairman of the Board of Deloitte, an accounting and consulting firm (yes, they still call her the Chairman though she is a woman). She's also on the Forbes list of the 100 Most Powerful Women in the World.

Ms. Allen spoke about how they have implemented the concept of the "career lattice" at Deloitte in order to replace the traditional "career ladder." Gone are the days of the traditional step-on-everyone-to-get-to-the-top philosophy. Gone are the days of fighting for the next promotion and the next raise. Gone are the days of having to leave if you're going to have a family.

It took me a while to wrap my head around the idea, because I was taught to believe that if you aren't forever getting more money and power, you're lazy, boring, or incompetent. And if you did take time out for family or anything else, well, you'd pretty much have to start over at the bottom. This was the price we paid for being women in a man's world.

But Sharon Allen talked about being able to "dial up" or "dial down" your career at various points in your life without having to give it all up. Flexibility and respect seem to be the cornerstones of this approach. After it sank in, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The world is starting to understand that women can add infinitely more value when they contribute from within their own framework.

If one of the most traditional, male-dominated industries in the U.S. has seen the light, we're closer to electing a woman president than I ever thought possible.

Joy Comes in Small Packages

2008-10-08T15:46:00.000-06:00

The sun is shining and the weather is warm, warm, warm. I contributed time to Smart-Girl this afternoon that was meaningful--I built relationships and used my knowledge and skills. I scheduled a phone interview for an organization I believe in where I could most definitely WOW them as the CEO.

And I got a package in the mail today--the written evaluations from the class I taught at DU this summer. I was a bit reluctant to teach the Financial Management and Fundraising class in a condensed format--how would I ever fit it all in and keep them engaged? But I earned an "A"! My numerical scores were often 5.9 on a 6.0 scale. Here are some of the comments:

"Erin really cares about this subject and she is able to convey her vast knowledge succintly and effectively. I was impressed with her enthusiasm, preparation, and skill."

"Engaging teaching style"

"Erin did a wonderful job of finding ways to incorporate multiculturalism..."

"Instructor was knowledgable and able to go into specifics with real-life examples."

"Challenging both to experienced and inexperienced students"

Happy, happy, joy, joy! These are the days I live for.

I Don't Know How to Be a Superhero

2008-10-05T21:29:00.000-06:00

I mentor a 13-year-old girl named Consuelo through an organization called Denver Kids. She's a good kid with a loving mom and two sisters who will be her friends for life. She's lucky because she's got a better start than a lot of kids in the program. I'm lucky because other mentors have to deal with drugs, pregnancy, and abuse. I may still face some of those issues with her, but I hope not. I want to see her graduate from high school and college without going through any major trauma. I want to see her be happy.

It was a huge decision, this committing to being a mentor. Frankly, I was terrified that I would do or say something wrong--that I would screw up somehow and mess up a kid for life. But I did it anyway. I jumped through all the hoops, including orientation, interviews with different organizations, fingerprinting and the background check, and lots of other stuff that I've blocked from memory because I want to convince my friends to become mentors too.

In mentor training, they said that every mentor is afraid of doing something wrong. They told us that we don't have to be superheroes; just being ourselves is good enough. They told us that our first responsibility is to always meet our commitments to the mentee. Our second job is to be a friend rather than a parent or teacher. Our third task is to be calm and nonjudgmental at all times and to set boundaries when necessary.

When Consuelo told me how she fights with her sisters, I told her that she was filled with light and love and to try to remember that in the moment. It's what I would tell my best friend. I hope it was right and good. It was me.

It's My Birthday Too

2008-09-22T22:11:00.000-06:00

Well, the ol' birthday has rolled around again, and I'm feelin' fine. Gary played the Beatles birthday song for me and gave me beads. At a little gathering later in the day, I was surrounded by members of my fan club. I felt loved and cherished. Honestly, what more could I ask for?

Well, I do like a little gifty... And there were plenty of those--meaningful, fun, and funny presents chosen just for me. Here's one that had to be immediately set up on my desk. My very own "Day at the Beach," complete with shells, beach ball, and umbrella. One can dream.

Big Brother, How Far Is Too Far?

2008-09-17T10:25:00.000-06:00

Google Maps has a photo of my house on their website. You can see the front of my cute little ranch and my beautiful garden. You can walk up and down my street and turn in a circle and see all of my neighbor's houses, too. In fact, my whole neighborhood, along with much of Denver and its suburbs, has been visually mapped and is available for the whole world to see.

It's so totally cool and kind of weird and creepy all at the same time. No doubt it will keep me from getting lost as I tool around here in the city. I'm one of those "turn left at the second church after the 7-11" kind of people rather than a "go south on Speer for 2.1 miles and then turn left on Larimer" kind of people. If I can see it, it's real. I truly appreciate of a tool that allows those of us who are "direction challenged" a fighting chance.

And I did go to Beijing, China on Google Maps to see what I could see. They have cute little suburban houses, palatial estates, and vast seas of tiny little apartments housed in big towers. I plan to travel to more destinations to improve my understanding of other cultures, even if it's just by looking at where they live.

So is the map project Big Brother going too far, or is it taking us one step closer to brotherhood?

People Do Change

2008-09-14T23:17:00.001-06:00

(photo courtesy of www.freefoto.com)

Last year for our anniversary, I gave Gary a year's worth of quotes in a jar. I spent many hours looking for perfect quotes, printing them out in beautiful fonts, then making each one a unique piece of art using paper, stamps, pens, ribbon, and stickers. The quotes were by people Gary respected and admired, or words of wisdom I thought particularly apt given his circumstances.

Every week he pulled out a new quote and shared it with me. It was something we both looked forward to because it made us think. Finally, he reached the end of the quotes and, to my great delight, put them all back in the jar so that he could start over again.

Here's this week's quote, which comes at a time when I need to remember the beauty of the mysteries of my fellow man:

People do change,

and change comes like a little wind

that ruffles the curtains at dawn,

and it comes like the stealthy perfume

of wildflowers hidden in the grass.

~John Steinbeck

Good for a Laugh

2008-09-07T14:43:00.000-06:00

My mom sent me a Herman cartoon that she cut out of the paper. It's a picture of one old guy in a suit sitting in an executive chair across a desk from another old guy in a suit. Old guy #2 is wearing a spotted, tall party hat with the big fringe around the bottom, and it's tilting slightly to one side. He's saying, "I always wear my lucky hat for job interviews."

My mom wrote a note on the edge of the cartoon: Erin--This may be why you never get the job.

I laughed out loud, and every time I look at it, it makes me smile. It was a welcome light note in a week of bad news, bronchitis, and bumming out. The lesson? Never, ever lose your sense of humor.

Complicated Schmomplicated

2008-08-26T17:43:00.000-06:00

I volunteer for four organizations: the Women's Foundation of Colorado, Smart-Girl, Denver Kids, and the Women'sVision Foundation. I love it. It's a lot of work, but it's the right kind of work. The kind that makes me feel like I make a difference in the world. Like I'm using my skills in a meaningful way. I'm meant to do it. It's a core part of my being.

And the funny thing is, the more I do it, the more of those "Aha!" moments I have--the moments where I see how one concept relates to another, understand how important a new idea is, or see why it was so serendipitous that I introduced those two people to each other. When I explained this to a friend, he said those kinds of realizations seem to make things more complicated for him. And that's when I realized that I live for those moments. To me, "complicated" means interesting, challenging, and stimulating. The more complicated, the better.

My life is rich with complications.

How Do You Cycle?

2008-08-17T13:39:00.000-06:00

Today I paid 75 cents more to buy a used book than I could have paid to buy the same book brand new. One less new book purchased is less raw materials and energy used to produce it. What would have been better is if I had shopped at the local used bookstore and found a copy there. That way, the carbon footprint would have been smaller because the book wouldn't have to be shipped to me. I'd also be supporting the local economy with my purchase and the 12.2% sales tax rate I pay for the privilege of buying goods in my town.

I'm also starting to keep non-recyclable plastic bottle lids. I know I'll be able to figure out a way to make them into cool jewelry if I put some creative energy into it. This is known as upcycling--taking something that would otherwise be thrown away and giving it new life.

We took our old electronic equipment to be harvested for parts instead of dumping it. We paid a small fee.

I made a bulletin board out of old champagne corks.

I recycle every scrap of paper, cardboard, and paperboard along with the plastics and glass that my recycle company will take. I'm considering starting to collect the plastics they won't take so that we can drop them off at a recycling plant where they're a little more enlightened.

A friend uses a dry-erase board rather than paper to take notes for something that he needs to remember only temporarily. This is an example of a practice known as precycling--figuring out how to do something differently so that you don't unnecessarily waste a resource in the first place.

Another friend is going to put a flagstone patio in her back yard. She listed her grass on Freecycle.com, and within a week, a guy came to cut her 100 square feet of sod and take it away. She got her flagstones from another friend who had taken out his patio.

What ideas and practices have you incorporated into your life that contribute to sustainability?

Everyone's a Poet

2008-08-15T10:08:00.000-06:00

Gary and I celebrated our fifteenth wedding anniversary this year with a poetry date at Bear Creek Lake Park. We ate a gourmet picnic lunch, read poetry, and went for a walk on one of the many trails. Listening to the birds and cicadas was heaven.

One of the books I had checked out from the library was Pizza, Pigs, and Poetry: How to Write a Poem, an entertaining book written by our nation's first Children's Poet Laureate, Jack Prelutsky. Not only did I laugh out loud a few times, I got so tickled I snorted. Perhaps the pigs in the poems had an effect on me.

Mr. Prelutsky has lots of good advice about how to write poetry, even if you're not part of his target audience. Though I've heard it before, it stuck with me this time: Write what you know.

it's still summer

the rain comes

nights are cool, cooler

than the weeks before

the air is chill

with wet

I shiver

anticipating fall and

slipping a sweater

over my head

smelling woodsmoke and

damp leaves

Making Change One Student at a Time

2008-07-31T12:40:00.000-06:00

I taught the Financial Management and Fundraising class for the second time at the University of Denver's Graduate School of Social Work this month. It was an "intensive" version of the class. What is normally 33 hours of instruction over 11 weeks was crammed into 24 hours on two Fridays and two Saturdays. Oh, and did I mention that I adopted new textbooks?

After researching new developments in the field, reading the textbooks, redoing my lecture notes and lesson plans in their entirety, and planning the class exercises and handouts, I was ready. I didn't really know what to expect, though, and I was dubious about teaching the course in this format. I wasn't sure how much the students could really absorb in such a short amount of time. They'd have to learn a new language. I'd have to build their skills in reading and interpreting financial statementes, creating budgets, and evaluating development marketing collateral. It was a tall order.

We outdid ourselves. The students were committed, energetic, and smart. I chose the right things to focus on and the right way to teach them. I saw their confidence grow. I got goosebumps at least a dozen times--that's what happens when I'm 100% in the moment and making a connection with the students. I fell in love with teaching all over again. It was amazing.

I'll be grading assignments for the next three weeks, and I can't wait to see how they apply what they learned to the nonprofit organizations they're interested in. I am empowering them to make change, and I am honored to have the opportunity.

My Fan Club

2008-07-22T22:16:00.000-06:00

I have a little ritual when I go on an interview. I picture my friends, family, and supporters sitting around me. They don't speak. They just sit quietly and read the newspaper or calmly watch the proceedings. Once in a while, one of them catches my eye and smiles at me or gives an approving nod.

It's my fan club--they're only in my imagination when I'm in an interview, but they're very solid in real life. And boy howdy, am I grateful for them.

For years, some members of the club have proudly and loudly proclaimed that they'd vote for me for president of the United States if I ran. The first time someone said that to me, I was more than a little surprised. Me? The president? That's when I realized I have what they call moxie. Personality. Verve. Spirit. Courage. Know-how. Energy. Initiative. And all of that translates into the ability to inspire, lead, and push the envelope.

I know that I will put my moxie to use in a nonprofit organization again. The universe is, for now, teaching me humility and patience. I thought I had learned those lessons, but I am happy and willing to be a student once more. As long as I have my fan club by my side.

Reflections on Communing with Nature

2008-07-11T14:00:00.000-06:00

Bug spray on top of sweat on top of dirt on top of sunscreen on top of sweat on top of bug spray—a modern girl surviving in the forest

There is absolutely nothing like the constant sound of a babbling brook to set your mind at ease.

When I was a kid, I climbed huge boulders on the sides of mountains and threw rocks in streams to see how deep they were. I still do that.

It takes a few days of being away from civilization for the mind to quiet itself.

We have some things to learn from dogs, like when to lie on the dirt and take naps in the sun.

In the mountains, you must be prepared for fifty degrees of temperature change in one day. In July. No kidding. Really.

“Three-season tent” really means “You’re going to freeze, so you better have a really good sleeping bag and a hat.”

Flexibility and balance come in handy when putting on your long underwear while standing on the tops of your shoes.

Wildflowers are the best, most beautiful flowers of all.

Impressions from a Forest

2008-07-07T17:25:00.000-06:00

“Is it sad to camp in a grove of dead trees?” I ask.

“No,” he says, and he means it.

We think we see a specimen of the dreaded pine beetle, the one that’s done the dastardly deed. Whatever it is, it flies with its legs hanging straight down like one of those spacecraft on My Favorite Martian. Its antennae are a little bit longer than its body—creepy--and they remind me of curved, serrated knives. A whole lot of weird in a small package.

One lands on the table next to me. I slide my pen tip up under its head to see what it will do. I don’t really want to share the table with it, but I don’t want to hurt it either. I am in its space after all. Nothing happens. I slide the pen out. I think. It waits. I wait.

I slide the pen back over to its side of the table and gently touch one of its front legs. OK, that did it. It leaves, but it doesn’t just fly away like any other self-respecting bug. It takes a few slow steps toward the edge of the table and then lifts its wings and launches itself in the air, flying in its awkward, slow way over to the next little stand of almost-dead trees.

I guess we know who’s king of this jungle.

How Sustainable Are We?

2008-06-20T12:24:00.000-06:00

Do you think about sustainability? I do--for nonprofit organizations, animal life, plants, and yes, my lifestyle. I live in a beautiful suburban neighborhood in a little 60s ranch house with big trees and a garden I've spent seven years creating. In Mexico, eight family members would live with me. We'd raise some of our own food on the land. I buy cooked, sliced chicken at Costco that comes in a plastic resealable bag that isn't recyclable. But it's convenient.

I also think about privilege (race, religion, gender, socioeconomic class, heterosexuality, gender role identification, education, body shape/size... the list goes on and on) and how it affects sustainability. Clearly, those who have privilege get to make the rules at the expense of the have-nots, even if that means we ruin it for others. Throwing away trash, throwing away recyclables, throwing away productivity, throwing away people.

Oh, I do "my part"--don't get me wrong. I recycle more than I throw away. I buy used cars. I shop at the thrift store and get perfectly usable stuff for $3.50 instead of $35.00. I check out books at the library rather than buying new ones. With my money and my time, I support nonprofits that promote economic self-sufficiency and sustainability for women and girls. I make changes in my language to change perceptions about those who do not have privilege.

But my part seems so, so tiny.

Peace on the Plains

2008-06-08T10:50:00.001-06:00

Over the Memorial Day weekend, Gary and I went birding on the plains east of Denver. I know, I know--it's kind of strange to spend a beautiful sunny day out on the windy prairie in the middle of nowhere. But we have a knack for picking trips that place us exactly where no one else is. And it was the right choice.

Driving on highways and dirt roads that ascend into the great big empty blue sky was pretty close to Nirvana for me. We added at least a dozen birds to our life list and saw environments and bird behavior that we'd never seen before. We glassed pronghorns that were watching us from miles away. We talked about everything and nothing. My thoughts were clear and sharp and then altogether gone.

Our last stop was the Ramah Reservoir, which you would never find unless you were looking really, really hard for it. As we drove up, I was thinking plains + water = trillions of mosquitos, right? But there was a stiff breeze, and I didn't see them at all. We stepped down from the parking area about two feet to start walking toward the lake, and I was immediately enveloped by a hum so loud and so big I felt like I had walked into an alternate universe. There they were. If a bird would fly with his mouth open, he'd have his dinner in thirty seconds flat.

The prairie wind drove pioneer women insane, and after having spent a day out there, I could see why. It's relentless, and it blows dirt into every crevice. But it also keeps away the bugs.

Yes, Women Still Make Less than Men

2008-04-23T10:37:00.000-06:00

Attendance was a bit spotty at Denver's Equal Pay Day rally yesterday, but my sister, a friend, and I showed up and held our signs and did our part. What was disconcerting, though, were the recent conversations I had with women about the equal-pay issue. Some of the comments:

"There's not really a problem with that, is there?"

"That's not an issue with high-level jobs."

"Oh really?" followed by dead and most definitely uninterested silence

Wake UP, ladies! This is not just about women working in low-paying jobs (as if that would be OK anyway). The median salary for women attorneys was 71% of the median salary of men in 2006. Don't believe me? Think that all numbers are lies and that statistical studies are twisted? See for yourself on the Bureau of Labor Statistics website, where they list the median weekly salary for hundreds of professions for both men and women.

What do we want? EQUAL PAY!

When do we want it? NOW!

One Small Step for Womankind

2008-04-21T23:10:00.000-06:00

SB 122, The Wage Transparency Act, was signed into law last week by Governor Bill Ritter. SB 122 protects employees who share wage and salary information with their co-workers. The lack of information, or transparency, about wages and salaries is a key obstacle to identifying and correcting pay discrimination.

And boy howdy, is there still discrimination. Women in Colorado still make only 81 cents on the dollar compared to men. The studies control for factors such as time on the job and experience, but there's still a big chunk that just isn't explained by anything other than plain old gender bias. The story for men and women of color is even sadder. Check out the Colorado Pay Equity Commission's study "Fulfilling the Promise: Closing the Pay Gap for Women and Minorities in Colorado" for more details and the facts of the matter.

Life Is Full of Flowers

2008-04-16T10:23:00.000-06:00

One of three long-time friends who have recently resigned from their jobs came over for lunch yesterday. A long lunch on the deck with someone who is loving life, freedom, and her new perspective is quite a treat, I've got to say. A sweet surprise was that she supported my jewelry habit by buying three of my pieces. And she brought the most beautiful Gerbera daisies in a vase that looks like a picture from a magazine.

A couple of weeks ago, a wonderful, arty friend came over to give me some decorating ideas that will mesh with our new paint colors. And she brought pussywillow and other branches from her garden.

Last week, another friend invited me over to her house for a girls' night and sent me home with a vase full of forsythia branches after a wonderful night of eating and chatting.

My life is full of friends whose love is so vibrantly represented by these beautiful, living things that serve as a daily reminder of how rich life is.

Power Shift

2008-04-11T14:09:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I got an email saying that the interview team associated with a job I applied for was "uniformly impressed by your experience and accomplishments," but I did not get the job. And neither did the other two second-round candidates. The interview team is starting over in their search process.

My initial reaction was that I couldn't possibly give up--if I wrote something compelling enough, they'd see just how passionate and smart I was and reconsider. I wrote a long email that discussed the flaws inherent in the traditional interview process and recounted all the ways the interview team had said I was a fit for the position. But I didn't click send. Thankfully. I called to talk a friend, who is also a life coach, about nonprofit issues and ended up telling her about said email.

The conversation went something like this:

Her: It sounds like you're really attached to this.
Me: YES! Even if I don't get the job, I don't want them to repeat the same process and end up in the same place.
Her: What are you going to get out of telling them they're wrong?
Me: Hmm... probably not a whole lot.
Her: What is the likelihood that they'll reconsider you as a candidate or change their hiring process?
Me: Practically nonexistent.
Her: So is that really what you want to do?
Me: No. It's not a very gracious way to end the relationship.

With a few well chosen words and questions, Laurie helped me realize that my need to be right was going to cause me to give away my power and make me look like an idiot. I deleted the entire email except the part that said thank you and good luck. My power returned. My positive energy returned.

Effective coaching packs one heck of a wallop--I had a complete change of perspective in under two minutes. Wow.

Efficacy of Interviews

2008-04-09T12:43:00.001-06:00

Job interviews are tough. You have to spend a lot of time researching the company, preparing for the questions the interviewers might ask, getting mentally psyched up to present your "best self," and picturing yourself as a success in the job. And when you're at the interview, you have to remember to relax, smile, and be your true self. No pressure, right?

I'm wondering just how effective the traditional interview can be. One of the recruiters I worked with gave me a set of thirty behavioral interview questions (the kind that asks you to recall an example of a time of when you actually did something rather than asking how you would act in a hypothetical situation). I prepped for them all and can recall being asked such a question exactly twice.

How can someone make a decision about you based on a cover letter, resume, and two one-hour interactions that are forced and high stress? I'm surprised that even a team of interviewers can decide who to put in charge of the finances of an organization or the organization itself when the candidates are all people they barely know. Has anyone talked to even one of my ten professional references? Read my blog? Looked at the jewelry on my Etsy site? Visited my LinkedIn profile? I wonder.

I've heard some people compare the interview process to dating, but I don't know too many people who go on two dates to meet the other person's parents in their home and then decide to get married. Would it be too much to ask to spend a day in the organization? Or to go to lunch or coffee and just sit and chat for a while? Where is the relationship-building--the connection--in this process?

Corporate Philanthropy: Good or (Making Up for) Evil?

2008-03-09T23:50:00.000-06:00

This past week, my students brought up an ethical issue that made me think twice. Is it better for for-profit corporations to sin and then repent through corporate philanthropy or to sin and not atone at all?

Perhaps it is a bit hypocritical for that local brewing company to repeatedly dump in the creek and then turn around and give millions to social causes through its foundation. But as a wise friend pointed out, the woman in charge of that foundation likely has no control over, and may not even have any knowledge of, the bad, bad things that the company does, despite the fact that she shares the same last name.

Research shows that 89% of consumers aged 18-35 would switch brands for a comparably priced product if a company showed that it was a "giving" company. Where does your loyalty lie, and do you do the research before you support a company that, on the surface, seems to be charitable?

Asking for Donations Is NOT Begging

2008-03-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

At the Colorado Nonprofit Association's annual award luncheon today, I watched a video that moved me to tears about what nonprofits do for the Colorado community. I listened to award recipients who've worked tirelessly for decades talk about what it means to work in philanthropy. I felt good. I felt important. I felt justified in my choice to pursue nonprofit management as a career.

But having spent ten weeks talking to my students about how asking for donations is giving people a chance to match their passion about a mission with an organization's needs, I was infuriated by Lieutenant Governor Barbara O'Brien's speech. She talked about how you have to be comfortable with begging to work in nonprofit organizations. She actually used the word two or three times. She's the former executive director of the Colorado Children's Campaign, so she had a lot of street cred in that room. I heard people around me murmuring in agreement and saw them nodding when she said that.

As long as we have nonprofit leaders and government officials perpetuating that kind of thinking, we will never run our organizations efficiently. We will never maximize donations. We will never help all of the people we are capable of helping. We will never put ourselves out of business by eradicating the social injustice and oppression we fight because we limit our thinking and our possibilities. Wake up, Barbara, and stop teaching the next generation to think just like you.

Spring Is Coming!

2008-03-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

I know, I know--we're supposed to get snow tonight. I don't care. Today it's so warm you can be outside without a jacket. The birds are gaily singing, and the mountains are the kind of blue that you could lose yourself in. On my walk this morning, I:

Saw the first tulips coming up and little patches of green ground cover everywhere
Heard two meadowlarks calling to each other across the field
Smelled the first hint of something growing underneath the musty cover of leaves
Touched the new buds on the tree branches
Felt the joy of the new season

Hooray!

Learning from Teaching

2008-02-13T18:53:00.000-07:00

Last week, a panel of board members was kind enough to give their time to and share their expertise with my students in the nonprofit financial management and fundraising class I teach at DU. Two weeks before that, a panel of executive directors spoke to the class. It was thrilling to see the wheels turning in the students' minds as what I had taught them in class and what they had read in their books came to life right before their eyes. It was true. It was real.

And it was confusing, too. Pitting theory against reality is always a challenge, and never is that more true than in nonprofit organizations. In class, we talk about how nonprofits need to be transparent to their constituents, donors, and the public, but few publish their annual reports or Form 990s (the IRS information return nonprofits must complete) on their websites.

I tell the students that the scarcity mentality is the death of organizations: "begging" for money, not budgeting enough money to compensate qualified personnel, thinking first about cutting expenses rather than raising more money. Then we hear that a very real worry for executive directors of organizations that have been around for a long. long time is that they will not have enough money in the bank to make payroll.

In the end, despite the mixed messages, I know that this class will make an impact on twenty lives. Some of these students will decide that nonprofit management is not for them, that they need to make an impact one person at a time by being social workers. Some will decide that, like me, they will work to change "the system" so that nonprofits will not just survive, but thrive. Maybe one will become an investment banker and live the life some of us secretly envy.

I am blessed to have the opportunity to teach them and learn from them, too. Twenty lives intertwined with mine... awesome.

E's Beads Is Open for Business

2008-02-08T14:46:00.000-07:00

I wear the jewelry I make, give it as gifts, and, in the past, sold a few pieces at small craft fairs. Then I found Etsy, which is the online store for all things handmade. If you're a shopper, or you like to buy unique gifts, or you're fascinated by the millions of ways people create art, go there. You won't be disappointed. It's eye candy, it's colorful, and it's always changing.

And now you can buy my handmade jewelry in my online store, E's Beads, at http://www.esbeads.etsy.com/. I'll keep adding pieces, so check back often or subscribe to the RSS feed from my store. Thanks for your support!

Let Your Light Shine

2008-02-03T22:23:00.000-07:00

Excerpted from Marianne Williamson's "Return to Love":

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? Your playing small doesn't serve the world. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

The Ethics of Credit Checks

2008-01-31T11:15:00.000-07:00

This weeek, a student in my nonprofit financial management class questioned the ethics of conducting credit checks on potential employees. The students in my class are social workers, and I'm finding that their code of ethics (http://www.socialworkers.org/pubs/code/code.asp) can be quite different than the code of ethics I live under as a CPA (http://www.aicpa.org/about/code/index.html) and business ethics in general. But as we know, in some cases, business ethics have gotten corporations into a l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-t of trouble.

The student argued that prying into someone's personal financial affairs and making a judgment about her ability to do a job, even a finance or money-handling job, is not in alignment with the basic social-work value of respect for another human being. She gave good examples of how this protocol could be misused and abused. I can definitely see her point, but I don't want to be the nonprofit leader who has to explain how $50,000 was embezzled by an employee I didn't do a background and credit check on.

I'd love to hear your perspective on this issue!

Good Things Come to Those Who Work Hard

2008-01-26T20:28:00.000-07:00

Linda Brisnehan of Lockheed Martin, the 2007 Women'sVision Foundation "Woman of the Vision" was the intro speaker at the Women'sVision Savvy Salon last week. She had three tips for the career women in the audience. I found myself nodding my head in agreement after everything she said, and I thought her advice was worth sharing.

1. Work hard and give 100%.
If you work hard, you get a good reputation, and those who have a good reputation see lots of opportunities come their way.

2. Continuously learn.
This really means create your own opportunities by getting smarter and better all the time.

3. Build your network.
Amen, sister. Can't say enough about this one, because all of the new contacts in my network have opened my eyes to whole worlds I didn't even know existed.

Life Is Good

2008-01-23T21:39:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a full-time job in seven months. I pay a ridiculous amount of money every month for health insurance. I push myself outside my comfort zone every single day. I'm frustrated with the nonprofit community and its scarcity mentality. I struggle with balancing my time between maintaining contact with the people in my network, building new relationships, working for clients, seeking new clients, getting smarter by going to classes and conducting informational interviews, working as a volunteer, and looking for work. I'm o- u- t- out of money. I have never been busier in my life.

And I've never been happier.

I am true to my values. I'm having fun. I appreciate and admire my husband, family, friends (old and new), colleagues, and students. I'm lucky to live in a democratic country, as flawed as it seems sometimes. I drive a reliable car that's paid for, and I have a beautiful home surrounded by a garden that takes my breath away. I put my skills and experience to work in a meaningful way. I connect with people.

Life is good.

The Love of Her Life

2008-01-11T10:34:00.000-07:00

I attended the memorial for my friend's husband, Jim, this week. A clear picture emerged of a man who worked hard, was loving and fiercely loyal to his family, enjoyed the good things in life (good food, beer, music, art), was incredibly well respected as a smart, stubborn, ethical attorney who did what was best for his clients even if it wasn't what was best for him, was a good friend to many, supported other people emotionally his whole life, was not interested in self-promotion or taking credit, and was a patient, caring father.

Sounds like a saint, right? But what I loved about this memorial was that many people who spoke also talked about the things Jim did that drove them crazy because they're what made him him. He played practical jokes and let people ruminate on it for days until he admitted it was a joke. He could be fastidious to the point of obsession. He worked too much and too hard. He separated his personal and professional lives into little compartments. He was a saint with flaws. He was real.

At the end, the family asked the audience to share memories. A young woman came up to the microphone and said that she'd been Jim's massage therapist for 11 years. She knew all about his family but had never met them. She said that she had lost a son and that she and Jim had connected over the heartbreak of losing a child. "I don't know if you know this," she said as she looked at Jim's grown children sitting in the front row, "but he gave me money to adopt a son after I lost my own." Afterward, she hugged each of them in turn like they were her long-lost siblings.

It's easy to see why my friend calls him the love of her life. She and Jim shared many values and qualities and were different enough that they could continuously learn from one another. He will be missed by the hundreds of people he touched with his humor, love, intelligence, and support.

Thankful

2008-01-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

This week a friend's husband died, my mom's house caught on fire (house mostly intact; dogs and people all OK), and I found out that my dental hygienist, who is a really great person, got hit by a truck in October, and though she is recovering well, is not quite the same person as before.

I am thankful for my life and all of the good people in it.

The Jar of Love

2007-12-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

My sister Lindsey and I agreed that we would make gifts for each other this year to save money and to put our respective talents to use. Lindsey made Gary a dee-licious pumpkin pie and some beautiful handmade cards that he can send for birthdays and other occasions. He was pumped! Lindsey made me some very cool handmade Christmas trading cards and three dozen peanut butter balls, which are my very favorite cookie/candy in this whole wide world. They freeze well, too, so I'll be rationing those out at least until Valentine's Day, when I can maybe beg for some more.

For Lindsey, I wrote up six of my favorite recipes, made two pairs of earrings, and thought up some great coupons (with Gary's help) that I put together in the coolest little coupon book. But the most fun present to make was the "jar of love."

Gary and I had a couple of marathon sessions where we talked out loud about everything we love about Lindsey. I typed up our thoughts and printed them out. Gary made them look good by mounting each separate thought on a piece of patterned paper. Then we put them all in a jar and labelled it "Reasons Why We Love You." One of them was: You always have a suggestion about how to improve a bad situation. Another was: You're insightful about how people relate to one another. You get the idea...

We were pretty proud of ourselves for making such a cool gift, and Lindsey cried when she opened it. (It runs in our family--my mom cried about one of her gifts, too.) I hope that my sister will open that jar any time she needs a boost or a positive thought or to feel loved. I hope that it makes her feel like the special person that she is.

But I got more out of that gift than she ever will--insight into why my love for her runs so deep. It's not just because I helped change her diapers and held her hand when she crossed the street and got up with her when she was sick sometimes. It's not just because I watched her grow from a baby into a woman. It's not just that we have a psychic link (no kidding--we're complete opposites on the Myers-Briggs scale and still routinely say exactly the same thing at the exactly the same time in exactly the same tone of voice!). I love her because she is funny and smart and loving and loyal. Even if she weren't my sister, I'd count myself lucky to be her friend.

Java Jive

2007-12-23T11:27:00.000-07:00

In the last six months, I've met people at coffee houses all over Denver. It's a running joke between Gary and me that I've been to so many Starbucks, and am intimately familiar with a few, despite the fact that I'm anti-Starbucks.

When I met someone at my favorite Peet's Coffee on the 16th Street Mall a couple of months ago, I realized that coffee shops have changed the face of business. They've given us a neutral, casual place to meet, talk, make deals, and exchange information. In the past, we either had to do a power lunch or dinner or meet in someone's stuffy office or board room.

Tradition and power are the bastions of boomers' and veterans' values. But as the Xers and Y generation have moved up in the professional world, we've made coffee houses our place of choice to change the world. This is a lesson that older, more mature cultures learned hundreds or even thousands of years ago--business conducted in a comfortable environment over a shared pleasure (hot coffee or tea or a sugar-filled delight that pretends to be coffee) builds relationships and is infinitely more fun.

So I guess Starbucks isn't that bad after all. It's a rent-free meeting room that's wired for free Internet access. No wonder the coffee costs $5.

Back in the Saddle Again

2007-12-20T13:49:00.001-07:00

I had to take a break from teaching for a couple of years because I got a little burned out. My day job was demanding more of my time, and when I couldn't muster one ounce of sympathy for "My dog ate my homework" anymore, I gave up. (Yes, adult students really say stuff like that.) No patience and not enough time do not make a good teacher. And as my sister and my ESTJ Myers-Briggs Type Indicator point out, anything I do I want to do well.

But I'm baaaaaaaaaack. Red Rocks Community College asked me to teach Principles of Accounting II this summer, which I agreed to do despite the daunting task of redoing all assignments for the new book, figuring out the new online homework system, and completing a file folder full (not kidding!) of human-resources paperwork. ;)

But what's really cool is that the University of Denver asked me to teach a master's level course this winter--nonprofit financial management for people in the social-work degree program. How exciting! (This is what maintaining your network can do for you, people.)

I'm thrilled about it because I'll get the opportunity to interact with my people--those who work in the human-services nonprofit sector. And I'm going to tap my network to bring in people with expertise I don't have to make it a fun, meaningful learning experience. And I will get to teach students at a higher level--hooray! So the only question remaining is: Will the dog eat their homework too?

Take a Little Piece of My Heart Now Baby

2007-12-11T13:36:00.000-07:00

I dreamt the other night that my family had Dino (a funny-looking black and white dacshund/terrier mix) and Jenny (a black Lab) again--my first dogs when I was little. In the dream, I was refusing to give them up even though they were decrepit. "We're not getting other dogs!" I shouted to no one and everyone.

It's not hard to interpret that one. A year ago today we lost Rachel, our furry companion of almost fourteen years. Sometimes I still miss her so much it feels like my heart will burst. Thankfully those times are fewer and farther between now, but that underlying, steady layer of grief is still too close. It keeps the good memories at bay.

People have pretty much stopped asking when we're going to get another dog, which is good because when they do it makes me put up my "I-don't-feel-anything wall," which is bad. How does one adequately explain the thoughts and emotions that govern one's particular brand of grief? It's impossible, so I turn it into a tagline and change the subject.

But today I am grieving and putting it out there with the hope that the act of sharing will let some of the bad feelings slip away and some of the good memories take up housekeeping. How I do miss her little self.

Snoozin' on the bed 2004

Photo Shoot September 2004

Camping August 2006

Her last day--outside, where she loved it best

Let's Get Back to the Basics: Communication

2007-12-04T17:16:00.000-07:00

Today I met with the public policy liaison from the Denver Department of Human Services. She's been around government and nonprofits for a long while and so has a unique perspective on what's happening in our community.

I asked the usual informational interview questions, but I knew I had a wealth of information at my fingertips, all packaged up in this little bundle of energy. So I asked, "What do we need to be doing to move the community forward?" She talked about the major issues: homelessness, child welfare and protection, public and higher education, transportation infrastructure, and welfare reform.

But her main message was this: market effectively. She didn't say it like that, but that was it in a nutshell. The public is blissfully unaware of how human-services and other public policy issues affect our community. Coloradans are notoriously low givers in a state with a relatively high income per capita. Whose fault is that? If you want to educate and raise awareness of and funds for a cause, what do you do? MARKET THE MESSAGE EFFECTIVELY.

Too many of us in nonprofits focus on the day-to-day and putting out fires without investing in the future. How many human-services nonprofits have development staff but no marketing staff? Governments and nonprofits MUST build the marketing infrastructure to support the necessary fundraising infrastructure. If not, we'll keep serving up the same meal day after day--would you like the crisis du jour?

Happy Thanksgiving!

2007-11-22T10:41:00.001-07:00

I love this holiday. This, the one day of the year where we Americans are supposed to stop and smell the coffee, eat a wonderful meal with family and friends, and give thanks for all that is good and right in our world. I am thankful for so much, I could make a list as long as my arm, but here are just a few that come to mind:

• Stunning fall sunsets that make my heart swell with gladness
• My sweet husband, whom I love to the ends of the earth and back again
• My baby sister, whom I love to the stars and back again
• My mama, who loves me like no one else can
• Emily, who believes in me always
• Shannon, who gives me new opportunities to grow
• Amy, who has been a tried-and-true friend for 20+ years
• The openness, honesty, and support of the nonprofit community in this city
• Birds singing at the feeders in the backyard
• The new friends I've made at networking events and informational interviews in the last few months
• The support of friends and family as I find my way in a brave new world

I am grateful.

Glorious Fall Colors

2007-11-10T10:40:00.000-07:00

The beauty that is my garden in the fall...

The Devil Came on Horseback

2007-11-08T21:26:00.000-07:00

I watched the documentary The Devil Came on Horseback this week. Wow. It's about the ongoing genocide happening right now in Darfur, which is in western Sudan. After I got over the first wave of shock, my first thought was, "How could I not know this?"

I explained the whole thing to Gary, and he said, "How could I not know this?" I said, "Because Americans have a short little span of attention."

It did make it into the media, complete with horrible, gruesome photos. And a description of the intentional burning of entire villages hut by hut, brutal murders of hundreds of thousands of people at the hands of the Arab government and their flunkies, and the use of rape as a tool of war because it breaks up families. People were outraged for a while (a few days? a few weeks?). Then we moved on to other news. Wow.

The matter was referred to the United Nations, who referred the matter to the International Criminal Court. The Sudanese ambassador to the UN actually smiled when asked if he would turn over those people the ICC determined were most responsible for the crimes. Wow.

So I went to the website http://www.savedarfur.orgto see what I could do. "I'll write letters to my Congresspeople," I thought, until I couldn't figure out what I would say. "Kill those evil people," was the first thing that came to mind. But then I wondered, "What next?" How can we build an infrastructure in the entire continent? That's what would be necessary to give them the economic self-sufficiency they need to recover from the fragmentation and devastating effects of slavery and destruction of their society wrought by British and French colonization.

I'm not sure what I can ask my Congresspeople to do. Murder the bad guys and leave a country with no government and no militia to protect its people? Right, so they can be prey for the next armed group who wants their piece of land? But how can we just stand by while they continue to rape, murder, and pillage?

How Perfect Are You?

2007-10-31T10:15:00.000-06:00

"About-Face's mission is to equip women and girls with tools to understand and resist the harmful stereotypes of women the media disseminates." OK, now THAT's what I'm talking about!

"Our ultimate goal, the About-Face vision, is to imbue girls and women with the power to free themselves from body-related oppression, so they will be capable of fulfilling their potential." Amen, sisters!

This website features a photo on the opening page of a woman with her two girls, holding a sign that says, "I don't need plastic surgery because I want my daughters to look like ME!" One page lists 10 things you can do to help achieve their mission, and here are a few points I found particularly compelling. Think about it.

-Girls listen to what women say about themselves and learn the language of womanhood.

-You can stop perpetuating the quest for perfection by NOT talking about how imperfect you are.

-You're the boss of you--wear what you want, say what you want, do what you want.

-Ladies, make a short list of women you admire. How often does what you admire about those women have to do with their looks?

I'm pretty sure Hillary doesn't wear a size 4 and model in her free time. And if you watch C-SPAN, you KNOW those congresswomen don't give a rip about what they look like. Maybe they're actually busy paying attention to things like, oh, I don't know, the war in Iraq, global warming, genocide in Africa, and the poverty level of U.S. senior citizens.

Visit the About-Face blog for a little wake-up call about what's going on in the fashion industry and what advertisers (of yogurt, alcohol, and all sorts of things) are saying about women. And watch this YouTube video for a different perspective.

The Real Issues

2007-10-25T14:52:00.000-06:00

Forgive me, fellow bloggers, for I have sinned. It's been 10 days since my last post. I've eaten ice cream quite a few times (have you TRIED those Starbucks mud pies you can buy at the grocery store?), had a lustful thought about Brad Pitt, didn't recycle a glass jar I couldn't stand the thought of washing out, and let my mail pile get so high it's precariously balanced and just daring me to add one more piece of paper. What is my penance?

One fellow blogger recently asked the question, "Is anyone talking about the real issues?" I've been thinking about that a lot for the last few weeks. Asking myself if I'm guilty of not talking about things that matter to me because I don't want to appear rabid or overemotional. Do I not take risks because I'm afraid I'll offend someone? I've gotten a lot of gender training, intentional and unintentional, from media, family, and well-meaning friends alike, that points to silence as the answer to conflict.

But I attended a small discussion group last week that consisted of intelligent, caring, outspoken women, and I remembered who I was again. The topic was conserving our earth, women's purchasing power, and how our voices can make a difference. I don't think it was the subject or even the open George-bashing that inspired me. It was seeing these women, who were all total strangers to me and mostly to each other, bond over a glass of wine and a common interest.

They talked without fear of reprisal or judgment. They talked like they knew they would be heard. They talked about the difficult decisions we have to make that have to do with how we spend our time and our money. They talked about choosing between corporate values and the good those corporations do for the economy. So yes, there are people talking about real issues. And I'm one of them.

On the Vertical Axis

2007-10-14T20:55:00.000-06:00

A work of "flash fiction":

She started spinning and couldn’t stop. Not one to question things really, she never asked why it happened or why it happened to her. She did wonder how she was going to get to work, though.

Occasionally, someone was nice to her and spent a little time with her, but they all got a bit seasick watching her spin, so it never lasted very long.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

A few weeks after her 75th birthday, she died in her sleep of a massive heart attack. When they found her, she was lying in her bed, still spinning, but, oddly enough, she was spinning as if she were a Frisbee rather than a top. “I never knew she could do that,” said her son.

Are You Courageous?

2007-10-08T23:18:00.000-06:00

My core values are fairness, creativity, fun, intelligence, continuous improvement, collaboration, courage, and leadership. Here's a quote from Maya Angelou to put courage in perspective:

One isn't necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential. Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest.

The Many Faces of Dan

2007-10-06T16:12:00.000-06:00

I have six friends named Dan. It's a common name, apparently, but my Dans are anything but common. Whether they know it or not, each of them has had a significant impact on my life. Lessons learned from the Dans:

Dan C.
Laugh often. Love much. Live life with gusto.

Danny H.
Do everything you do with passion.

Dan O.
Reading the paper and watching the sun rise in Deck World is proof that life is sweet.

Dan P.
Superman is real.

Dan S.

Even in a war zone, it's possible to be kind to animals and children.

Dan T.
Treat every friend as a best friend.

May you be lucky enough to have even one Dan in your life.